


Cinis

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action! Adventure! Regicide!, Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Embedded Images, Identity Issues, M/M, Niflheim Prince Prompto Argentum, Not Your Typical Cinderella AU, Secret Identity, alternate universe - low tech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Ignis Scientia was meant to serve the Prince of Lucis, as his family has done for generations, but the Imperial invasion dashed his destiny. For eleven years after the fall of Tenebrae and the death of his family, Ignis has served in the household of Ravus Nox Fleuret, High Commander of the conquering Niflheim army. However, Ignis' fate turns when Ravus is invited to the ball celebrating the coronation of Imperial Prince Prompto Aldercapt, and he finds himself drawn into a conflict the likes of which he couldn't imagine.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 46
Kudos: 102





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been in the works for a while, and I'm so proud to finally be able to share it. December 6 is my birthday, so sharing it this month is a present from me to me, and an ongoing present to my readers for the holiday season! This fic will update every Friday.
> 
> This story features art from the magnificent Scarlett ([Twitter and commission info here!](https://twitter.com/katyscarart) [AO3 here!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettArbuckle))! Please click through for full size, the detail is just gorgeous. I can't say how very thankful I am for her support and indulgence, since she's been encouraging me on this project from its inception and was so wonderful to work with on creating the artwork for my little fairy tale!
> 
> I also must thank [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule), as ever, for her fantastic beta work. She always knows how to make sure my words shine.
> 
> Finally, thanks to the Promnis friends on Discord for their support as well. I love how supportive this community has been of me, and every fic I write is a present to all of you as well.
> 
> Without further ado!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis has spent most of his life serving at Ravus Nox Fleuret's behest, but his life is about to change when an invitation to the Imperial Prince's ball arrives...

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49178092276/in/dateposted-public/)

**CINIS**

**1.**

Dawn was dim across the expanses of Tenebrae, the light crossing fields of withering sylleblossoms beside Fenestala Manor and filtering through the lush trees. The light was always soft where it fell through the kitchen window onto Ignis’ mat at the foot of the oven. He had learned to rise at that tentative touch of light long ago, and this bitterly cold fall morning was no different than any other. Ignis Scientia rose from where he slept, washed his face in the work sink, dressed, and began the business of the day.

The children of House Fleuret, the ancient masters of Fenestala Manor and once the Royal bloodline of Tenebrae, had been relatively fortunate when the Empire had conquered them. While poor Lunafreya Nox Fleuret had been forced to rise into the seat of Oracle as a mere girl after the execution of Queen Sylva, Ravus Nox Fleuret had promptly given himself up and volunteered to join the Empire’s cause. In a way, Ignis couldn’t blame him; Ravus had been sixteen, otherwise alone and undefended, but high enough in status that the Empire wouldn’t want to kill him outright. Tenebrae's Crown Prince and son of the former queen taking rank in the Imperial Army was serendipity for the Empire, a symbol to solidify their domination, and survival with some measure of illusory freedom for the crownless prince.

House Scientia had not been so fortunate. House Scientia was known to be an ally to House Caelum, the royal family of neighboring Lucis, and had long sent their eldest son of each generation to serve the king. Ignis, the only child his generation, had anticipated his thirteenth birthday, when he would travel to Lucis to begin his formal education. He had hoped that he would be of aid to the young prince as he ascended to manhood and took his father’s mantle and crown, and his duty to halt the Empire’s spread across Eos. Ignis' precious uncle had begun to teach Ignis a few things when he visited home, and told him stories of the place he would go, stoking Ignis' eagerness for his destiny like one took a bellows to a flame. Instead, the Empire arrived at his doorstep two years before the now unfated day. Ignis watched his dear uncle run through on a general’s sword, and watched his father and mother face the guillotine, one after the other. When Ravus stayed Ignis’ own execution by demanding the last child of Scientia serve the Empire instead, Ignis could not bring himself to argue. 

Ignis put his glasses on as he had every morning for the last nearly-twelve years, dressed in the attire of a servant - linen pants, a plain tunic, a vest with deep pockets - then scraped a comb through his hair and set about the business of the day: serving the Empire at Ravus’ behest and under his fist.

Ignis built the fires high, frightening out the rats that had nested near the cooling stoves in the night, and set about the household business. First, preparing breakfast for the regiment of soldiers under Ravus' command, with a pot of gruel fit to feed however many stood in Ravus' personal retinue and meals for any officers that were visiting. The High Commander himself preferred eggs and toast, with whatever fruit was in season. The Oracle would have been entitled to a finer breakfast, but she had asked that Ignis provide her with the same breakfast he intended to serve himself. Ignis carried both of their trays to their bedrooms, and while Ravus took his breakfast and shut the door in his face, Lunafreya invited him to eat with her and her attendant, Gentiana, every morning when she was home.

“It’s too cold for you to eat alone in the kitchens,” she’d beckon him, and she always had some variant of it when the weather wasn’t bitter, dry, and cold. It was too humid in the summer, or too hot, or when it rained she would worry the water would come in the window and ruin his bowl. Ignis was in no place to argue, no matter what the reason was.

Lunafreya was kind and empathetic; she pitied him. While she was in no place to argue with Ravus over his treatment, for fear he would refuse to let her attend to her duties as Oracle, she still had the freedom to provide Ignis what mercy she could. Ignis hadn’t heard anyone else weep for his parents. Not even himself.

He would often take his breakfast with her, eating porridge sprinkled with a few ulwaat berries because Lunafreya would refuse to eat hers if she saw Ignis hadn’t given himself any. It was the closest Ignis came to empathy on a daily basis. 

After breakfast, Ignis was responsible for washing laundry for the soldiers and the High Commander, then preparing lunch for the household. He built up the fires again, blazing hot, as he chopped vegetables, butchered meat, and sliced bread with practiced speed. He made soup and toast for everyone and set about putting chickens on spits to roast for dinner as it all cooked. Ignis hardly had time to cart the pot out to the soldiers’ hall before Ravus became impatient for his own noontide meal. After lunch came the sweeping and mopping, taking stock of their supplies and preparing the weekly order, then the daily dinner. His last task of the day was to wash the dishes and clean the dining hall, to finish anything he'd missed. Then, long after the moon had risen, he would sleep, only to rise the next morning and begin again.

It was a life, a living, even if only in that he was alive. However, this particular bitterly cold day brought news at eventide, with the arrival of a page carrying a message with the Imperial seal. Ignis delivered the message to Ravus directly, as he took evening tea with Lunafreya in the former queen's music room. He read it without interrupting their conversation, sprawled on the settee with Lunafreya seated daintily in her mother's favored chair. Lunafreya fell silent and watched him read, until he turned back to Lunafreya to answer her inquiring expression.

"It seems his Imperial Majesty has decided to introduce his heir to court." 

Lunafreya startled. "Is that so? I had heard his only son died in a raid on Galahd years ago."

"The circumstances are none of my business." Ravus flipped the page with nonchalant distaste, lips pursed. "There is to be a masquerade ball on the eve of this dauphin's twentieth birthday, next week. It seems all of the Empire is to attend, all officers of the army, all lords and noblemen of the Imperial territory, and…" His eyes narrowed. "All eligible young women over the age of sixteen."

"Oh." Lunafreya put a hand to her mouth, masking dismay with surprise. "Then I suppose the Emperor seeks a bride for his heir already?"

Ravus harrumphed. "Perhaps he snatched up some distant cousin, or is elevating the child of one of his loyal retainers, but intends to marry him into nobility as a means of ensuring loyalty and continuation." Ravus sniffed, then cast the letter aside. "We will be expected to attend, of course, but know that I won't expect you to make any further overtures to this so-called Prince Prompto Argent Aldercapt than those necessary out of decorum."

Lunafreya murmured something in gratitude, as Ignis took the empty tea tray with his lips pursed. Once upon a time, he'd dreamed of planning and participating in such events for a prince from a faraway land. His uncle had told him stories of the Lucian court and its elegant, dark hall, of the generous king welcoming his guests, of all the nobility in their finery and the music, and of course the dancing! Uncle had taught him to waltz, quadrille, and even gavotte, and when Ignis balked, he'd told him, "You'll need to know someday, my boy! You'll dance with a prince or princess one day!"

Ignis still remembered the steps. He'd put the dreams of such a life far, far away from his mind, more distant than fabled Lucis, buried deep with his family.

"Ignis," Ravus intoned, impassive as ever and without really looking at him, "I'll need my dress uniform pressed and the medals polished before the ball. Make time and have it done." He motioned to Lunafreya. "Prepare a dress for Lunafreya, as well."

"I'll give directions on my own behalf myself," Lunafreya interjected, lips thinned with dismay. "Doesn't he have enough to do? Gentiana will assist me with an appropriate gown for the fete." She flashed Ignis a sympathetic look, then turned to Ravus. "And have you thought of him at all?"

Ravus raised an eyebrow in unspoken question. Lunafreya sighed a tiny sigh. "Ignis is a son of Tenebraen nobility, which is Imperial territory."

Ravus turned to Ignis quizzically as Ignis stacked the dessert trays, then snorted. "Dead nobility. They refused to submit to Imperial fealty. They paid with their lives. Ignis is fortunate to have only paid with his name." He shrugged. "Besides, I can only imagine there is no love lost for this new prince on Ignis' behalf. Or shall I ask him?" Ravus craned his neck around from where he sat to fix Ignis with his unnerving, unforgiving glare. "Do you wish to celebrate the ascension of the prince whose Empire supplanted your family of their status?"

Ignis shut his eyes tight, his imagination dancing for a long moment with the wonderment of an eleven-year-old child dreaming of standing at a prince's side in celebration, of being the one to hold the party and to be respected for his dedication and devotion. For an instant, he imagined the smile of a young prince like sunlight on his brow. Then, he blinked it back to darkness and gave the answer Ravus surely expected: "I doubt I would enjoy such festivities, nor do I imagine myself desired by this Prince Prompto."

Ravus whipped back around as Ignis continued cleaning up the tea tray and dusting the table. "Satisfied?"

"I fear not; but then, I doubt I shall be, so long as I remain here." Lunafreya rose to a stand, elegantly smoothing the drape of her skirt as she stood, sorrow pulling her face low as if anchored. "I will attend this ball, but I must return to my duties shortly thereafter. It pains me to say, but the air of Tenebrae doesn't agree with me of late, and has not for some time. Good evening." She bowed respectfully to her brother, then left, obviously forcing herself to avert her gaze from Ignis as she passed. Ravus groaned.

"Luna…" He scrubbed his eyes with his fingers, then waved a hand. "Ignis, brandy."

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49176385597/in/dateposted-public/)

Ignis moved as if a whip had been cracked at his heels (as it once had, when he'd been taught to serve the whims of his new master like a blinded falcon). He fetched the decanter from off the lid of the piano, poured a measure into a tumbler, and delivered it, waiting while Ravus took a slow sip. "You know it is not my intention to be cruel to you." He couldn't look at Ignis. "You are watched, you know. The Emperor knows how close your family was to their greatest rival. If I didn't insist you serve, you wouldn't be allowed to live."

Ignis wished he still had the nerve to retort that this life was nothing, wasted as another cog in a war machine, and that if Lucis ever did take its grudge to the Empire's doorstep, he hoped they started with Tenebrae.

Instead, Ignis put the decanter back and demurred, "I suppose I should be grateful to live."

He was, of course. Even as he carted the empty tea tray and plates back to the kitchen, the seat of his enslavement, he was grateful he still lived. He hoped he lived long enough to watch the Empire fall, in vain hopes that he might burn with it. The memory of his disgrace would turn to ash upon the fields of sylleblossoms.

Ignis slept in the cinders of his fires, huddled for warmth in the last embers of light he saw. He didn't dream of more, and tried to be satisfied with no friends in the world but Lady Lunafreya and the rats that crept on the floor with him, and a life that, while hollow and exhausting, persisted.

Ignis Scientia slept and persisted.

* * *

The Fleuret siblings rode for Gralea, the Empire's capital, a day in advance of the ball, with Gentiana and Ignis permitted to ride in their coach-and-four out of the Octobris wind, with Luna's dogs at their feet. Ignis dully watched the countryside pass. It was a mercy that Ravus and Lunafreya each seemed to find the notion of the event distasteful, albeit each for different reasons. Ravus made it no secret that he saw the entire affair to be a waste of his time, and Lunafreya had no interest in celebrating the Empire's continued reign. As such conversation would surely be seen as treasonous, they rode in silence. 

The Chancellor, an overtly amiable man with a sneering grin, bid them welcome at the gates, and informed one of the Imperial Keep's servants to escort them to their quarters. Ignis expected to be shown to the stables where he would be kept like a dog until Ravus beckoned him, but there were servants' quarters appended to Ravus' rooms. A small mercy, but Ignis had no tongue with which to praise the Empire's generosity. He had a cot and a bell hung on the wall, likely to summon him to the kitchens to fetch meals for his masters, or to their private chambers to give demands. He tried not to let his displeasure show.

A different routine, but the same life.

The cot was an improvement from the embers beside the stove, at least. 

The evening of the ball came, and Ignis spent the whole day kept busy with menial tasks around the manor with the rest of the servants brought in by noblemen and other high-ranking officers in the Imperial Army. He had laundered Ravus' dress uniform, starched and pressed, and as the hour neared, he brought it to him in his chamber and assisted him in placing the medals on his sash. However, just as Ignis finished putting Ravus together, there was a knock at the neighboring door. Ignis opened the door to find Gentiana, donning a navy gown sparkling with tiny crystals like black ice over a deep lake, waiting. She gave a small bow.

"Ignis, have you a moment to spare? Lady Lunafreya's gown has proven a complicated affair."

Ravus answered before Ignis could. "Is my sister decent for the company of an unmarried man?"

Gentiana pursed her lips. "She is." Gentiana was a woman of few words, but Ignis sincerely envied how curt and icy the words she spared Ravus always were. Ravus seemed used to it and didn't react to her subtle disrespect. 

"Ignis, I'm fine on my own from here. Go assist Lunafreya." He took up a domino mask, white and silver with a line of blue painted around the eyes, and tied it on. "Once you're finished, you may retire to your room for the evening." He gave Ignis a sharp look. "I will, however, expect you here to assist me in storing my uniform when the ball concludes." 

"As you wish." Ignis understood what wasn't said, but he hadn't needed the reminder that he was expected to remain in their rooms until the ball ended. He hadn't wanted to attend anyway, he told himself.

He held no love for the Empire, no desire to celebrate its heir. He didn't want to see the dancing, hear the music, pretend for even a moment that he stood anywhere near the station he'd been born for. It would be too tempting to think of the promises he would never get to keep, the oath he wouldn't be allowed to take, to close his eyes and dream he was in Lucis at his prince's side. It would be completely ridiculous, he told himself, utterly unproductive, and perfectly…

Perfectly wonderful.

Even if only for a moment.

Gentiana closed the door between the two rooms as Ignis sagged through, then hurried him away from it. "Milady."

"Ignis?" Lunafreya peered out from the curtain around her bed. She donned a beautiful, silvery white gown, modern and sleek around the curve of her bosom and hip. Her hair was braided in an ornate band across her crown and twisted into a ponytail that flowed onto her elegant decollete. Her mask was a half-moon with intricate silver detailing. Too beautiful. Ignis couldn't let himself look too long. He bowed deeply at the waist.

"You're a vision, milady Oracle. How may I be of assistance?"

Lunafreya took his hands. "Have we not known each other long enough? I implore you, call me Luna. Ignis, please, you're the baby brother I've never had, we're family and I hate that you treat me like a stranger." Ignis didn't know what to say, biting his tongue as she pulled his hand. "I wish I could do so much more for you, but despite my title, I am as powerless as you."

Ignis swallowed, and his hand trembled in her grip. "Milady - Luna, please. Your kindness is appreciated, but it doesn't help. It's enough to be alive."

"I know," she whispered, pulling him to her chest, her fingers laced in his. "But you deserve so much better. I… I wanted you to have this." She moved from the bed and pulled the drapery from around it, revealing a periwinkle suit, the jacket and slacks in the palest blue, a silver vest with navy herringbone pinstripes, newly polished boots, even a crisp shirt, all looking new and beautiful. Ignis' heart stilled in his breast.

"Whatever is this for?"

"For you. For tonight. For the ball!" Luna smiled and shook his hands. "Gentiana and I restored it. It was one of my father's, and you were of a similar build, so tall and long. Ravus won't recognize it after all these years, so you can wear it and he won't know where it came from. Father was a mite shorter, so we let out the hem-"

"Lady Lunafreya, I couldn't." Ignis' hands were shaking in earnest now. "I couldn't attend the ball, your brother-"

"He doesn't have to know." Luna took both of his hands in hers. "Ravus won't know the clothes, or your face. Gentiana procured a mask for you!" She waved Gentiana over, and Gentiana approached, her gown glimmering with every shift of her step, and held out a pale blue mask with royal blue rings around the eyes, one that would cover his nose and brow and most of his cheeks but that left his mouth exposed. Gentiana nodded indicatively.

"It is in honor of my patron of the Hexatheon, Shiva. Her love for humanity, for all living things, outshines the bitterness of her winters, as your dedication outshines your rank by far."

Luna tugged his arm. "Do you see? You won't be recognized! I know it is only a single night's reprieve, but please, accept this. It's a mere token of my appreciation for your persistence, and would that I could, I would do so much more."

Ignis swallowed hard as he looked at the mask in Gentiana's hands, then back at the suit. "You would… that you would…" He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so strongly about anything, neither anger nor sorrow nor exhaustion, and now he had no word for the ache in his heart. "I… I am grateful, Milady."

"Then you'll go?" Trepidation wavered in Luna's voice. Ignis managed a staunch nod, straining to withhold his emotions.

"I… I will, and with my eternal gratitude for your kindness in my breast."

Lunafreya's pleased smile was the greatest reward Ignis could imagine.

Ignis let Gentiana help him dress, with Luna whispering encouragement and tugging his shirt and jacket into place. As Gentiana tied his cravat, Luna combed his hair back from his face and held it in place with a touch of beeswax pomade scented with sylleblossom oil. "You'll be so dashing," she told him, "they'll regret that they didn't invite you personally."

"Milady, I am not some court dandy-"

"But you were raised well,” Luna insisted. “I knew your uncle only by reputation, but I know you were educated as a boy to have court manners, to be a conversationalist. Please try, it'll come back to you."

Ignis winced, the suit suddenly feeling too large and too tight all at once. "I… I am a mere servant. I have forgotten too much, I fear."

Luna shook her head. "Your mind is not that of a mindless thrall, you are much too sharp for that." Luna took his hands again and turned them over. "The only part of you that is a servant are these."

Ignis looked down to his own palms, scuffed and calloused from years of work, his fingers thin and knobbed from use, his fingerprints eroded nearly smooth, the skin stained with polish and bootblack.

Luna took up a small box from the nightstand. "While there is no shame in having the hands of a man who works, you can disguise them for a night." She opened the box to reveal a pair of snow-white leather gloves.

Ignis swallowed, then pulled them on. The leather was as smooth and pliant as butter left in the sun, and felt so _good_. He'd never realized how sore his hands were until there was relief. He wondered how he would ache when this reprieve ended.

"You are truly a vision, Ignis." Lunafreya stepped back to let Gentiana place the mask on his face. Ignis folded his glasses and tucked them into his pocket, and turned to face the mirror.

He felt like a prince himself, and looked the part of a man ready to stand beside one. He trembled, sealing his mouth to keep from blurting something senseless, but Luna squeezed his arm. "Nobody shall know you, but none shall forget you either. Dear Ignis, please enjoy the ball."

Ignis nodded hard, wheezing as his heart seized. "My deepest, deepest gratitude, Luna."

Lunafreya left with Gentiana in tow, but told Ignis, "Wait but half an hour and use the western staircase. Leave before the festivities end so you can change before my brother returns. If he catches you gone, then while I will do everything I can to defend you, I will not be able to stop him."

Ignis had brooked no argument; an abridged evening at the ball was better than none at all. He watched her leave, checking the way his clothes sat on his body one more time, before creeping around the hallways to the western staircase. He counted the minutes as the chamber musicians performed below, the melody close enough to echo in his lungs. 

He would hum this music forever, and etched every note into his memory.

He swore the music stopped when he descended the stairs, and he thought he felt a murmur rush through the celebrants on the floor below. As the musicians turned their pages and began to play again, Ignis ignored the sensation of being noticed and joined the throng.

Older couples danced and swayed in simple waltzes to the music, as servants carried wine glasses and small plates of ornately assembled food around to the guests. Ignis meandered through, taking in all of the Niflheim bourgeoisie in their best, stark white suits and silver ball gowns, though many of the generals came wearing the colors of their regiments, greens and golds and reds floating among the clouds of white meandering the room. Ignis even spotted two men in black hovering near the edge of the room.

One, a slighter, smaller man, stood propped against the wall as he observed the party, donning a mask of the Draconian Bahamut that nearly looked like a helmet, the snout of the dragon obscuring his mouth and jaw. The other, a towering hulk of a man, wore a domino mask spotted with sculpted flowers. Ignis frowned to himself - curious visages. The taller of the two might have been Galahdian, but the shorter man in the mask of Bahamut looked, for what Ignis could see of him, Lucian.

His heart sank for a moment - had the Empire plundered so deeply into Lucis to recruit their own people to carry on the war effort? Ignis hovered near them a moment as he took a glass of champagne and sipped, eavesdropping all the while.

"That's her? That's the Oracle?"

"Yeah," the shorter man answered the taller. "It's been a while, but even with that mask, I'd know her anywhere."

"I see. She's gorgeous, just like I thought she'd be."

Ignis felt a flame in his breast and cast his eye toward the man, but tempered it; he hadn't said it lasciviously, but more in wonderment than anything else. The correct reaction to the Oracle. Awe.

The taller man, ignorant of Ignis' brief internal conflict not two paces away, crossed his arms, biceps bulging against the restriction of his evening jacket as he leaned over towards the shorter man. "You ought'a go talk to her before. Y'know."

"I don't know." The shorter man sounded terse. "It's been a while for a reason. Later. There'll be time later."

"You don't know that."

"Not now." The shorter man shook his head, then gestured to the north end of the room. "That's the Emperor, there."

The taller man snorted, as Ignis discreetly turned his gaze in the indicated direction, and spied a dais with two gilded thrones set upon it. One was empty, but one was occupied by a wizened, elderly man in sateen white robes and a royal purple tabard, flanked by the Chancellor in his sable suit and cloak and another old man in a robe, hunched beside the Emperor, surely one of his advisors whispering into his ears. The supposed prince was nowhere to be seen next to the elderly men hovering around the Imperial Throne.

The taller man muttered, "Man, I got a tip for anyone looking to assassinate the guy: wait."

The sheer surprise of hearing someone say it out loud knocked a short laugh out of Ignis, and the two men in black looked at him. He stifled his amusement down to a smile hidden behind a cupped hand. "Apologies; I didn't mean to eavesdrop." He edged a step closer, daring to add, "But I imagine that even those who sincerely agree that Etro awaits the man around the next corner would rather the privilege of escorting him personally."

The two men in black each chuckled, and the shorter of the two motioned to the larger. The two of them dispersed, the taller man going to engage with some of the ingenues in colorful satin dresses hovering closer to the dais, and the shorter vanished into the crowd of revelers. Ignis finished his champagne and returned his focus to watching the proceedings. If those men whispered of him later, called him a traitor between themselves or even to someone of consequence, it wouldn't matter. They didn't know him. Nobody in power here did or would.

"Hey."

Ignis startled at an intercession at his shoulder, and saw a young man beaming a boyish smile at him. He was fair-skinned, with straw-colored hair that looked windswept and wild. He donned a white silk suit with gold piping and a red tie, a red sash lined with gold satin, and a red half-mask with gold and black detailing, as if in ode to Ifrit and his flames of rebirth. His smile was more cheerful than the legend of his patron deity, and though his raiment was closely tailored, it didn't seem to fit him.

"Um, I mean, hi!" He waved awkwardly, then swept a clumsy bow. "It's nice to meet you!"

Ignis frowned under his mask, then put on a smile. "I haven't introduced myself."

"Oh." The younger man laughed nervously. "Um, sorry. Just, I saw you walk in, and I think my heart stopped a little? I wanted to be sure you were real."

Ignis felt a flush creep across his cheeks, but tried to temper his reaction to the flattery. He just wasn't used to anyone seeing him as anything but a servant, or just ignoring his presence altogether. This man, though, he was gazing at Ignis as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful, sky-blue eyes shining from under his mask as he extended his hand.

"I, um, wanted to ask if you might like to dance? I'd really like to dance with you."

Ignis hesitated to answer at all, but the ghost of rebellion in him drove him to take the man's hand, then link arms with him. "I would enjoy that as well." He let the man lead him towards the dance floor, and he leaned towards Ignis to confide:

"Maybe help me? I've never danced with anyone before."

Ignis chuckled a little. "Fortunately, I know how to waltz. Follow my lead and you'll be fine." This boyish man was not the Lucian Prince, but he carried himself like a clumsy princeling, and Ignis could teach him to dance and pretend.

They stood apart, and Ignis bowed to the young man, and the young man bowed in return. Ignis inhaled sharply as the young man took his hand - his hand was warm even through the glove. Ignis set his own hand on the young man's hip, adjusting their positions in an instant. "You're a natural," he whispered, in awe of Ignis.

"I've been taught," Ignis corrected. "Now, watch my feet and follow my lead."

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49176170261/in/dateposted-public/)

The young man stepped in careful time, managing to avoid stepping on Ignis' toes as he tried to work his way through the rhythm. Ignis whispered gentle correction colored with playful rebuke - "Step left, now, if we keep going right we'll end up in Altissia -" and soon, the young man's enthusiasm made up for his inexperience. Ignis could see him blushing under his freckles as he found the rhythm, and found the two of them carefully waltzing across the floor. Ignis lost track of the room as they turned and turned, gliding around the marble tile of the dance floor like swans on the mirror surface of a lake. Ignis was aware only of the music ringing in his ears, the young man's grip on his shoulder and hand, and the sparkle in the young man's face when he mustered the bravery to meet Ignis' gaze.

"You're magic! They tried to teach me to dance for weeks!" He laughed, jubilant and wild, and Ignis felt fire stir in his chest. "You didn't make me feel stupid, either. Thank you!"

Doing something nobody else could was an ego stroke Ignis didn't know he'd craved. Being thanked so earnestly was even better.

"You'd be surprised what else I can teach you, if only you'd give me the chance." Ignis turned and dipped him, and the young man, now scarlet under his mask but for the faint flecks of freckles Ignis spotted - _ha_ \- across his cheeks, held tight, keening with glee when Ignis lifted him up again.

"I'd like that. I really would. Would you-" The young man swallowed hard, suddenly bashful, and his grip on Ignis' tightened. "Come with me and walk a little? I could, um, show you the castle! The gardens are sparse right now, but there are some really neat tapestries!"

Ignis could feel the young man subtly tugging his hand, so eager. How could he refuse? "Certainly, yes." 

The young man led him from the room with a tug on his hand. Ignis heard the distinct cadence of an argument from the dais, and heard young women complaining softly, but when the young man linked his arm with Ignis', he did hear a distinct, "Who is he?"

Ignis couldn't even be distraught that he might have ruffled some feathers. If whoever this young man was made him deserving of such attention, Ignis almost thought it his duty to steal that much from Niflheim.

The halls of Zegnautus Keep were chilly, and the young man actually shivered a little. “Brr, you must be cold!”

“I’m quite alright, thank you.” Ignis smiled as the young man huddled closer, sharing his body heat. “You seem to be more cold than I.”

“Nah, I just get chilly easily. But you’re right. You're warm.” He sighed softly, and Ignis felt his gaze intensely, his smile dopey and sweet. “I kept meaning to ask, but what's your name?”

What was the harm? He wouldn’t know who he was, it wasn’t as if Ignis himself had ever been anyone, and what were the odds this boy would talk to Ravus? “Ignis. It’s a pleasure.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you!” He beamed, so open, so genuine. Ignis hated to think this sweet, bubbly young man was another Imperial dog. He hated to think that this young man might burn down when the Empire finally fell apart. “When we take the masks off, I promise I’m gonna get a good look at your face.”

Terror chased down Ignis’ spine, but he banished it from his voice: “Oh, is there an unmasking?”

“Supposed to be at midnight!” The young man grinned. Ignis noted to himself to be long gone by then, but the young man took his nod as affirmation. “Yeah, it’s the last event of the night. I kinda thought a masquerade would be a good idea, ‘cause, like full honesty, I’m kinda shy about this whole ‘introduction to court’ thing!”

‘Introduction to court,’ he said. Ignis stopped walking, and took in the young man again. No. He couldn’t possibly mean...

“You said the masquerade was your idea?”

“Uh-huh.” He scrunched his nose, lifting his mask up his brow a little. “I mean, they let me have a say in a few things, and I thought I’d feel less shy if everyone was wearing masks. That way, not everyone would know who I was immediately.” He drew his arms close around his chest, flushed and bashful again. “I guess most everyone knew who I was anyway, but I think they were all scared of me, except you. And all the girls who tried to get me to dance, but like I said, I dunno how to dance.”

Ignis thanked Shiva and the whole Hexatheon that his mask obscured most of his face, and that it hopefully covered that he looked like a dead fish, mouth agape. “I’m sorry - you never did give me your name.”

“I didn’t? I thought you knew!” The young man blinked a few times, then patted his own chest. “Prompto! Prompto Argent… Aldercapt.” 

Ignis sensed trepidation in the way he said his given surname, even as the knowledge that _this_ was the Empire’s heir set in. He had thought he would immediately be loathe of this so-called prince, but that instant wellspring of his long, silent grudge didn’t come. Not for this boy. Ignis wasn't entirely certain what he was feeling, or what to say next.

Then, he remembered his manners. Prompto was a prince, and decorum was decorum. Ignis stepped back and bowed low. “Forgive me, your Highness. I knew not whom I was-”

“Oh, no, nononono!” Prompto gasped and frantically waved his hands. “Please don’t start with the Highness and the bowing! I should’ve introduced myself properly, that was super rude, but I hate the bowing!”

Ignis blinked a few times, surprised. Perhaps this so-called prince was less elevated than Ignis expected one of his station. He certainly lacked the haughty carriage of an Imperial Prince. 

Prompto continued to babble, “I’m okay with the party ‘cause I don’t know a lot of people, and I wanted to meet people, but his Imperial Majesty was all, ‘find him a bride among the noblewomen,’ and now girls wanna dance with me but it seems like every time I try to just, y’know, talk to folks, they all just bow and call me 'Your Highness' and blow me off!” He shook his head. “So, please don’t-”

Ignis grabbed both of his hands and laced his fingers with Prompto’s. “Shhhh.” Ignis discarded every thought he’d had of what the Imperial Prince might be like. He was a young man, lost in the world and perhaps just as much a part of this horrible machine as Ignis had been made to be. Prompto froze when Ignis grabbed his hands, the leather of Ignis’ gloves sliding between Prompto’s thin fingers. “It’s alright, Prompto. I didn’t mean to intimidate you.” He put on his gentlest smile. “Only, understand I’ve never met a real prince in person. I didn’t expect to meet one like you.”

“O-oh.” Prompto stilled, his fingers still quivering. Ignis noticed faded callouses on his fingers - a soldier, maybe? “I’m, um, not a real prince, if it helps.”

“You are, so long as you carry responsibility for your nation.” Ignis wanted dearly to know who had convinced Prompto to accept his position. However, the sagely way Prompto nodded told him he had taken that to heart.

“Y… yeah. Niflheim needs a good leader.” He nodded, and squeezed Ignis’ hands back. “You’ve been so nice to me. Can we just walk around a little longer?”

“Of course.” Ignis turned, but kept one of Prompto’s hands clasped tightly in his. Prompto’s tiny smile was brighter than dawn, and made his chest feel warm.

Imagine that. Somehow, Ignis had ended up at a prince’s side, fate be damned.

Prompto led Ignis around the empty halls of the Keep, meandering on the tiles and touching all the windows, stopping to show him the different tapestries and empty suits of armor. He knew the stories told and the histories of each tapestry, of the war each set of armor was used to fight, reciting it like he’d been taught and interspersed with little jokes and jibes.

“They told me that this is the fight that took the mountains north of Gralea and made it Imperial territory." Prompto rubbed his lower lip. "Don't know why they bothered. I've been there, it's nothing but snow and Garulas."

"Perhaps the Emperor at the time fancied steak for dinner that evening." Ignis smirked, and Prompto laughed. 

"Yeah, that old fart would be like that, huh?" Prompto strolled on, passing by the tapestry, the woven horses circling a great fire that stretched up the wall over Ignis' head. "Um, I dunno how much you know, but actually, most of the people in Gralea think he's kind of, you know, loopy? They don't know why we're at war with Lucis, what we actually are getting out of it. The Emperor says he wants an Empire the sun can never set on, but what does that do for all the people living here?"

Ignis held his tongue, until Prompto glanced back, smiling. "You can say what you think. I can see you thinking, you know?"

"Can you?" Ignis retorted with false humor, and Prompto chuckled.

"We're alone. It's okay. Plus, I heard you joking with those guys about someone maybe wanting to escort the Emperor to Etro personally?"

A thrill ran through Ignis. Would Prompto ever cease to surprise him in new and ever-changing ways? "Did you?" He noticed the suit of armor nearest him had a dagger strapped to its hip. Prompto was focused on the window, and Ignis easily, soundlessly slid the dagger from its cradle.

He liked Prompto, but he had no intention of dying here.

"Uh-huh." Prompto sighed, and Ignis heard a faint click. "There. That's the last one." He turned back to Ignis, grinning. "We should get back for the unmasking." 

"Prompto." Ignis hid the dagger against his arm and pressed it flush to his side. "Do you not think me a traitor?"

"No. I think you're Ignis." Prompto bit his lip, then extended a hand. "If… if you didn't mean it like that, then it's okay. But, I'm being honest, I don't like what the Emperor is doing. He hurt a lot of people, and I want to change that." He swallowed, hand trembling in the air. "If you don't like that, it's okay, but… will you take my hand?"

Ignis hesitantly shifted his arm, then eased the dagger from where he'd concealed it against his body and dropped it, then took Prompto's hand. Prompto's gaze fell to the dagger, and Ignis murmured, "The Emperor wounded me personally. You must understand..."

Prompto nodded, mouth stiff. "I won't let him do that again." He gave Ignis' hand a little squeeze, then bent and picked up the blade. He put it back in the empty sheath, then removed the sheath and its knife from the suit of armor and held it out to Ignis. "Here. Just in case, like if anyone tries to hurt you again. Or…" Prompto bit his lip, then said, surprisingly steadily, "If you ever think you can't trust me, go ahead and put this in my back, okay?" He beamed, as Ignis' heart sank. "But until then, stay close to me, won't you?"

Ignis reached past the knife to take Prompto's hand. "I doubt the former shall ever be necessary." Then, he eased the dagger from Prompto's hand and attached it to his belt under the fall of his evening coat. "You have my gratitude, Prompto." 

Prompto chuckled a little as Ignis took his hand again and fell in at his side. "You have mine, too. Or, um, thanks." He looked to Ignis, imploring more. "Can I ask what happened to you?"

Lying would be a mistake, but the whole truth would be too much. "Only the same they did to every other noble son of Tenebrae."

"Oh." Prompto's brow knit up. "That wasn't fair. I'm sorry it happened. Maybe I can help make amends."

Ignis smiled spiritedly. "Perhaps when you are Emperor. After all, your father does seem advanced in age."

"Not my father." Prompto stuck his tongue out. "Gross. I mean, the truth isn't much nicer, but I'm definitely not telling you that lie. And let's face it, when Lucian soldiers come creeping in all those windows I just unlocked, it's not going to matter who's calling himself Emperor or Prince anymore." Ignis startled at that, as Prompto picked up his brisk pace. "Come on, it's almost midnight! You're not gonna want to miss this."

Midnight. The unmasking. Ravus. Lucian soldiers?! "Prompto, I-!"

"It'll be okay. There's nothing to be afraid of." Prompto gripped his hand. "You follow my lead this time, okay?"

Prompto entered the ballroom with Ignis at his side, awaited by the wizened, ancient Emperor. The old monarch rose from his seat.

"Here he is! My named heir and son, and Crown Imperial Prince!"

Prompto startled, and Ignis felt his fingers turn into a vice around his palm as everyone in the room rose and lifted a toast. Even Ravus raised his wine glass, but his dispassionate, piercing stare landed on Ignis instead.

"May this boy lead our Empire into a future where we crush Insomnia and the demagogue Lucii, and where the sun shall never set upon us!"

Prompto shifted incrementally closer to Ignis, releasing his hand.

"Your Imperial Majesty." He bowed low, hands hanging at his sides, voice toneless. "It is my honor to accept this duty." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ignis noticed the two men in black moving through the room, the only ones in motion. However, the Emperor turned his focus to Ignis, rheumy, ice-blue eyes settling on him.

"I see you've made an acquaintance. Who is this?"

"A son of Tenebrae, your Majesty." Prompto shot Ignis an urgent look, and Ignis remembered himself - he hadn't bowed to the Emperor upon being confronted with him. 

Nor did he intend to do so. 

"Your Majesty." Ignis gave the slightest incline of his head, but before the Emperor could press any further, Prompto interjected by throwing an arm over Ignis' shoulder:

"He's really clever! He's great to talk to! He actually even taught me how to dance; maybe I can try it again some time. Are princes allowed to have favorites? Because I think I have one." He smiled his broad, toothy grin at Ignis, all teeth, no mirth, and as he slid his arm off of Ignis and shifted his hand back to his side, Ignis spotted the handle of a short blade concealed in his side pocket.

The Emperor, meanwhile, frowned at Ignis, studying him, looking into his eyes as if he was trying to peer past his mask. "I believe it would be improper to name a child of lesser lands as a favored advisor. You have much to learn. Tenebrae is-"

"Part of the Empire. Isn't it? If it's enough that it's ours, then its people are our people." Prompto was fidgeting - _working the knife into his hands!_ Ignis shifted to place himself in front of Prompto to disguise his action.

So much of Ignis wanted to run, both from the Emperor's scrutiny and Ravus' curious gaze, the part of him that heeded Lunafreya's warning and the part of him that was content merely to live crying out to turn tail, but the rest of him was cognizant of Lunafreya beside Ravus, hope in her eyes, and of Prompto at his side.

"I have lived from boyhood in the service of the Empire, Majesty." Not a lie, though Ignis wished dearly that it weren't true, and from the faint purple tinting the Emperor's visage, he detected insincerity. 

"I am not speaking to you!" The Emperor spat like an offended cat, and turned his attention to Prompto, poorly imitating the mollificant tones of a mother taking a toy from a recalcitrant baby. "This man is not suitable to stand at your side, boy, you must understand: Niflheim conquered these people for a reason!"

"Are we better than them?" Prompto sounded so convincingly innocent, even with the handle of a blade concealed in his palm. Ignis could feel him shaking a little where he stood, but he stood firm, still smiling. "How can the sun shine on the Empire if it doesn't shine on all of us?"

Before the Emperor could respond, a clock chimed. Prompto pulled his mask off first. "Midnight. Time for the unmasking, everyone!" Ignis stepped back as Prompto dramatically cast his mask aside, revealing his boyish face, smiling and wild, as he swung forward to thrust his knife into the Emperor's chest.

Ignis moved in the same instant, taking the dagger from his side, stepping swiftly behind the Emperor and plunging it deep into his back.

As blade met flesh and the old man was run through, Ignis burned back to life, a fire ablaze in his heart. Then, everyone in the room took notice and rushed to their feet, crying out or yelling, "Treachery!" Ignis moved to step back, pulling his dagger out as the dying Emperor gagged on his own blood, but Prompto grabbed his hand.

"Thank you," he whispered under the roiling chaos, just as a passel of soldiers in black uniforms burst in from the hallway he and Prompto had been roaming, and the two men in black suits separated from the crowd, raising their hands.

"Gladio!"

"Anytime, princess!"

Blue light flashed in their hands, and swords materialized - a massive greatsword in the larger man's hands, and a one-handed short sword in the smaller man's grip - as if they'd been there at their fingertips all along. More screams arose, as the women fled with their skirts gathered in their hands, as the commanders and generals drew their weapons and faced off with the Lucian soldiers on the ballroom floor. The man in the Bahamut mask held a hand up and summoned a crossbow.

"Hey, Highness, give us a hand!" He tossed the crossbow to Prompto, who caught it easily, grinning.

"You got it, _Highness_!" He cackled and put himself between Ignis and the generals rushing towards them, and fired bolts into their chests as the Lucian soldiers flooded in and joined the fray. The big man (Gladio?) snarled as he swung his sword and knocked a crowd of his assailants back. 

"No time to make jokes! Let's just get out of here, we don't know how many of them are already calling for help!" 

"No way, we take out as many as we can before we clear out!" The young man, called Princess or Highness, snapped back, his voice surprisingly commanding for someone his age. 

It hit Ignis then: "Is that the Prince of Lucis?!" He grabbed Prompto's hand, and Prompto took his hand in return, grinning as he fired shots at the men wearing the badges with the highest rank. 

"Yeah. Princes gotta stick together, right?" Prompto tugged Ignis' arm, keeping his own body between Ignis and the Niflheim elite who were desperate to kill the both of them. Ignis was lost amidst the swinging swords and the clamor of battle as the two rival princes and Lucian soldiers carved down as many of the Imperial officers as they could. "Stay close, okay?"

Ignis smiled wryly despite the fear in his chest. "My hero." He still didn't dare disobey, mesmerized between that cheerful boy Prince of an Empire in flames, and the dark-haired prince he'd been meant for.

"Sir!" One of the soldiers hailed the Lucian Prince. "Reinforcements on the horizon!"

The Lucian Prince swore, then threw his sword. He vanished as it flew across the room and landed in a pillar beside one of the massive windows, and reappeared holding the grip in a flash of blue light. Ignis gaped in awe - was this the magic of the Lucian King at work? The young prince clearly had more tricks up his sleeve, as he used his grip on the sword to swing around and kick the window out. “The Emperor is dead, we did what we came to do! Burn the place and run! Meet at the rendezvous point! Everyone, move out!” 

Prompto made to follow after the Lucian Prince and his retinue as they fled out the window onto the cold plains, holding Ignis' hand. "Let's go, we can explain everything to them when we reach our outpost!" Ignis very nearly ran with him, until another voice sounded from behind him:

"Ignis!"

Lunafreya! Ignis pivoted to see Ravus fleeing the hall with Lunafreya slung over his shoulder. She kicked and slapped his back, to no avail. His savior, his dearest friend, stolen like a jewel in the night. He couldn't let her be taken!

"I must go help her!" Ignis turned to follow, but Prompto gripped his hand.

"No, don't!" He grasped Ignis' hand in both of his. "Stay with me! We'll rescue her together!"

"I must," Ignis insisted, then turned and kissed him hard and fast on the mouth. "I'll find you again, but I must help the Lady Oracle!" 

"Ignis, please!"

Ignis was already turning and running, but as Prompto tried hard to clasp his hand again, his glove slipped loose and Prompto was left holding it tight. Ignis could still hear Prompto calling for him as he chased after Lunafreya.

Ignis had felt his heart reawaken at Prompto's touch, but he owed Lunafreya for the privilege.

Ravus had reached the door with Lunafreya and sprinted from the stone halls of the Keep and to a waiting coach. He threw in and shut the door, then shouted something to the driver, who gave a jerky nod and took up the chocobos' reins. Not on his watch! The chocobos roused and took off at a trot, the coach began to roll forward, and Ignis ran as fast as he could and jumped to grab onto the footman's post as the coach sped off onto the road. 

And then, Ignis ran out of options. He couldn't reach the door to release Lunafreya, and if he let go now, he didn't know how he would ever be able to save her.

The shadow of the Keep rose against the moon, a black stain on the night sky lit with flames set by Lucis, and Ignis watched it vanish over the horizon as the Fleurets fled from the dying embers of the Empire.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto, Prince Noctis, and Gladiolus make a plan for their next steps, and Ignis faces the consequences for his actions.
> 
> When Prince Noctis arrives at Fenestala Manor, what will he find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks again to [Scarlett ](https://twitter.com/katyscarart) for the lovely art in this chapter too!

**2.**

Dawn was chilly at the haven at the foot of the Gralean mountains, and Prompto was warming his hands on a mug of bitter coffee as he watched the sunrise. He hadn't been able to sleep after the events of the last night, and couldn't imagine sleeping with his mind still a-flurry with wild imagination.

He had been confused when he was pulled from his cot in a Gralean workhouse and told he was a bastard. Mostly because he'd known. His mother had never told him the identity of whoever had sired him, and she had died when he was far too young to press the issue. Then, came that morning. An old man who said he was the Emperor's advisor told Prompto that he was the Emperor's long-lost grandson, _that kind of bastard_ , and while Prompto hadn't believed it, he also had no way to disprove it. The advisor had given him little choice, and Prompto had little reason to argue. The workhouse was a life of quiet misery canning cheap food to send to the army’s front lines, of being fed one meal of gruel a day and sleeping on the floor with hundreds of other faceless people waiting for a better option or to outlive their usefulness, whereupon they would then be left to starve. 

Prompto didn't like the Emperor. He hated staring up at his cold, smirking portrait on the wall as every single person he knew suffered and starved at his behest. However, if Prompto accepted his destiny, he might have the privilege of dying warm.

So it was off to the castle with him, where Prompto was schooled in court manners, protocol, behavior, and history. He had it driven into him for two years like a stubborn dog being trained. Prompto didn't think he was especially stupid, but his tutors did, and he found the whole re-education equal parts inane and exhausting. His supposed grandfather took no interest in him, and nobody especially seemed to like him. From what Prompto could glean - because one didn't survive crushing conditions without a little cleverness - the plan was to get him married off to a Niflheim noblewoman and get him to conceive a better heir, one that could be sculpted from birth to be an ideal king, a proper reproduction of the Emperor on the throne now.

They didn't really want him, just his bloodline. Prompto knew it. He also had more than a slight suspicion that the Emperor and his council would have him killed as soon as they no longer had use of him. Just like the workhouse: function until he'd outlived his usefulness.

Such is life. Dying warm was still a better prospect than the workhouse. Maybe they'd off him in his sleep and he'd never even know.

It was about when he learned to read that he began to receive a visitor: a white dog carrying a notebook. Prompto played with the dog, who rolled and lounged on his legs, as he carefully read the simple message:

_"Hello Prince Prompto! Would you like to help stop the Emperor?"_

Yes, Prompto would. He began to work on learning to write neatly so he could respond and say as much. 

Soon, Prompto learned that the messages were from the Oracle, and while he'd heard of her and how important she was, nobody had told him how very kind she was. She wrote him very simple messages and answered all of his questions, explained her visions, then told him she had a friend for him.

A black dog began to appear sometimes when he said he wanted this friend, this one with another notebook that had writing from both the Oracle and someone else in it. That someone else had left the last message: _"Hi, I'm Noct. Luna said you would help us. I'm glad to have you on my side."_

Had anyone been _glad to have him_ anywhere before? He wrote back: _"Nice to meet you, Noct! I can't wait to meet you in person! Do you think you'll be able to help everyone in the work camps?"_

“Noct,” or Noctis, as Prompto soon learned was his proper name, had promised to do his best when he wrote back with planning questions. He also started a tic-tac-toe game in the margins. Prompto continued the game when he responded, and they planned the revolution around doodles and word games.

It was simple: on a night when everyone was distracted, get the Lucian army into the Emperor's Keep, then use Prompto's position to end the Emperor. Prompto didn't like the idea of killing someone with his bare hands, but by the Gods if that was what it would take, Prompto would do it. Prompto was able to sketch out a floor plan of the castle, and shared his idea of a masquerade ball. Noctis and his personal bodyguard, Gladiolus, would infiltrate, and Gladiolus and Prompto would sneak off and open as many windows as they could on the east and west wings. The Lucian army would come in as backup when Prompto did the deed, then aid them in making an escape. 

The revolution would come at midnight, when everyone was distracted with the unmasking. 

It all went off just as planned, with one unexpected wrinkle: Ignis.

Prompto hadn't expected to meet Ignis, nor to suddenly have someone standing right by his side as he did the hardest thing he'd ever imagined he'd have to do. Prompto had felt fluttery the moment he'd laid eyes on him, floaty when their gazes met. His voice was so smooth, he sounded so friendly and smart, his smile thrilled him. 

Prompto would die for him.

It helped that he heard Ignis slyly insulting the Emperor to Noctis and Gladiolus.

Prompto had felt so completely certain of himself with Ignis at his side, and despite the unexpected company, everything went off almost entirely as planned. The only things that didn’t go as planned were last minute wrinkles: Noctis had wanted to rescue Lunafreya, but her brother had run off with her before they could. Prompto had hoped to take Ignis with him, but then he'd chased Lunafreya, leaving only his glove.

Prompto had the glove tucked in the pocket of the borrowed Lucian Crownsguard uniform he'd been given. He got it out again, squeezed it a little, then touched it to his face. The leather was so soft! He could just imagine the face of the man who wore that glove whenever he touched it.

Or, almost. The mask had hidden most of that coveted face.

"Morning, Highness."

Prompto jumped from where he'd been lost in thought at a gruff voice behind him, and saw Gladiolus staggering out of the tent the three of them had shared. "Oh, good morning, Gladiolus."

"Gladio's fine." He smiled roguishly, showing teeth. "We just overthrew a tyrant together last night. I'm pretty sure we're friends."

"Then, in that case, no more 'Highness'es, please. Just Prompto." Prompto poured a mug for Gladiolus and held it out with a smile. "One of the Kingsglaive guys in the other camp brought over coffee when they saw me, uh, not knowing how to use the kettle."

Gladiolus laughed and slapped his back. Prompto beamed at the friendly contact, at the warmth in Gladiolus’ face. He and Gladiolus had exchanged very few words (no magic dogs involved with him, no sir), but all of them had been friendly. He was a genuinely decent guy. Prompto hadn't known many of those.

"I'm sure what you would've made is no worse than what he made!" Gladiolus chuckled, rich and warm, then took the offered mug. "Thanks kid, coffee's coffee and we've got work to do today."

Gladiolus pounded the mug in two long drags, then tromped back into the tent. Prompto heard a brief ruckus, and a moment later, Gladiolus emerged with Noctis in tow. Noctis was still yawning even as Gladiolus prodded at him. "Up, Highness, get moving. Drink your coffee."

Noctis rumbled faintly and groggily, and Prompto stifled a giggle. Noctis wasn't at all what he'd imagined a real prince would be like, but then, nor was he. Noctis was nice in all of his letters, surprising Prompto with occasional little jokes and teases. They hadn't talked much directly, but last night, Noctis had been grinning with victory. He'd said he would sleep well knowing the Emperor was dead. He hadn't been kidding, it seemed.

It took Noctis a full two minutes to detect anything past the bottom of his coffee mug. Then, he noticed Prompto and smiled groggily. "G'morning. You sleep at all?"

"Not a wink!" 

"Shame." Noctis gulped down another mouthful of coffee.

Prompto shook his head. "How could I? After that?" He laughed, voice cracking. "I can't believe we did it!"

"You better. It happened, we all saw." Noctis chuckled and patted Prompto's shoulder. "News will be getting to Insomnia in a few days."

"Your dad'll be proud," Gladiolus chimed in from the campfire, where he'd set up a few skewers with sausages. "Mine too. If it helps, we're proud of you, Prompto."

"Thanks!" Prompto was hearing all sorts of new things! It felt good. "What's next?"

"Well, we sent a messenger to take the news to my dad. However, my dad said, if we pulled it off, we'd need to spread the word to the Empire's generals, on their land, personally." Noctis sipped his coffee, smirking, as Prompto cocked his head.

"I think most of them were there last night. They probably saw." Prompto made a few indicative stabbing motions, and Noctis spit his coffee out and laughed.

"It's a joke." Gladiolus patted Noctis on the back as he choked on his laughter, then passed Prompto a skewer of sausages. "Eat. What he means is, we need to break up the Empire's outposts so none of their people can try to muster a counterattack. We're emptying the work camps and razing every base we can reach."

"Oh! Got it!" Prompto grinned and took the skewer. "Hey, can I come?"

"Absolutely. Who better to tell the Empire it's dead than its prince, yeah?" Noctis chuckled.

"I'm so in!" Prompto pumped a fist, then hopped around to stand in front of Noctis, his knuckles white on his skewer. "Hey, um, while we're doing that, can I ask a favor?"

"Anything."

"The man last night." His hands trembled. "Ignis. He, um, vanished, chasing after the Oracle."

"The man in the blue suit?" Noctis frowned. 

"Yeah. He, um, he really encouraged me. He helped me a lot, and… I liked him." He bowed his head. "Can we look for him?"

Noctis didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. Any ally of yours is an ally of ours, and if he was trying to help Luna, then he has to be on the right side of history." He furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “Besides, I feel like I know that name…”

"How are we gonna look?" Gladiolus asked around a mouthful of sausage. "He went after Ravus, but that doesn't tell us where he is now. There’s no way you told him where we were going. He kept his mask on the whole time, or did you know him?"

"No, last night was the first night I met him, but I'll know him." Prompto shut his eyes tight. "His voice, his eyes, his hand… the glove!" He stuffed the entire sausage in his mouth to free his hands and dug into his pocket for the glove, then held it up as he chewed hard and swallowed. "It's unique, right?"

"Huh. Yeah." Gladiolus cocked his head. "Might help. Worst that can happen is you don't find him, yeah?"

That couldn’t happen. Prompto wouldn’t let it.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49173021387/in/dateposted-public/)

“I’ll find him.” Prompto squeezed the glove tight to his breast. “He deserves to be happy, too.”

Those moments he’d spent arm in arm with Ignis, feeling trust and safety in someone who had a gentle touch, were the most precious few he could count in his bleak life. Still, Ignis carried a sadness in his voice that spoke to a difficult life of his own. Prompto wanted to wipe away that sadness, and to feel that gentle touch again.

* * *

The stone floor was rougher than Ignis remembered, his abused clothes scraping his body as he tumbled. He had held tight to the carriage for the hours-long ride, buffeted by the wind, but when they’d finally rolled to a stop, he’d fallen to the ground, his jacket in tatters, his body exhausted from enduring the journey in the weather, and Ravus had easily dragged him to his feet and into the manor. Lunafreya, silent and stoic, had retreated with unshed tears in the corners of her eyes as Ravus shouted orders to his regiment: “Gather your belongings! We’re moving out. The Emperor has been assassinated and this place is no longer safe.” If he gave other orders, Ignis was too weary to hear them. Ravus tossed him into the ashes at the feet of the stove, and the silk of his ruined suit was marred again by the cinders.

“You ingrate,” Ravus whispered, loud in the silence of the still room. “I protected you from death, and the moment I turn my back on you-”

“I killed the man who would have killed me,” Ignis spat back, stoked again by Ravus’ barbs. “He would have killed you too, had you-”

“We all would be dead had I not given myself over! Do not presume that I do not know it!” Ravus stood tall over Ignis, fists clenched and trembling. “Lucis did not protect us! The Emperor allowed us to live! Why would you bring death upon my family for Lucis' sake?! The moment it is known that my servant was the one who brought down the Emperor-”

“Prince Prompto killed the Emperor. He stabbed him where his heart would have been.” Ignis bit down on the words as he spat them out. “I merely ensured it took.”

“You buffoon, nobody saw him strike from the front, if indeed he did!” Ravus seized Ignis by the neck and squeezed. Ignis felt his windpipe tighten. “When the Empire realizes it was _my_ servant that-”

Ignis lifted his knee into the join of Ravus’ legs, and Ravus dropped him in shock.

“I am my own man, and ever have I been!” Ignis managed to stand for a moment, panting, as Ravus groaned and composed himself. “You treated me as thrall out of convenience! Even were I not a noble son, I was human, and you treated me like no more than a trained animal!”

“For your protection!” Ravus snarled back, showing teeth. “I told you! I was expected to treat you as a servant, and I did, and you remained alive!”

“What life had I?! To sleep in your ashes, to scrape at your feet!”

“Would you rather have died?!”

“Were I dead, would I even know?” Ignis challenged. “I would be the very dust you made me sleep in, nothing more.” 

“But you would have lived.” Ravus staggered towards Ignis. “You were more valuable than you can imagine. Intelligent! Dignified! If I could just have waited, persevered long enough, I would have made Tenebrae a protectorate rather than a colony! The Empire was spread too thin as it was, the Emperor had nearly agreed to give over control of Tenebrae to me, and when that hour came, I would have lifted you to where you belonged!” He tore at his hair for a frantic moment. “We would have practically been free again had we only persisted!” He pointed an accusing finger. “Now, we’ll be slaves to Lucis! The Empire will give neither of us quarter. They’ll slaughter you where you stand.”

Ignis huffed a laugh, the strength seeping out of him again. Were Ravus’ words true? How could either of them know? “And what does that matter if we’re to be thralls to _Lucis_?”

“Because,” Ravus continued, and his voice crackled into a bitter laugh, “Lucis may let me live yet. I'm an officer, but you're a king-killer and slave. When the Lucian soldiers find out you were my man - that you served faithfully at my behest for years, no matter the circumstances - they’ll kill you too.”

Ignis’ stomach sank, and his knees went weak under him. He dropped to the floor, shaking as that set in. He was the enemy of the Empire, and would be the enemy of Lucis now, too. The thought had never occurred before, but struck him now as sure as a whip to the back - House Scientia’s alliance with the Lucian kings had likely died when he had been subsumed into servitude at the High Commander’s household.

“Gather what things you have.” Ravus’ orders were given coldly, and Ignis shivered. “We will all be on foot until we can unite with what allies we have remaining and make some stand against Lucis.” He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Ignis there. 

Ignis sucked in a few breaths, and though he couldn’t fill his lungs, he could sort his thoughts.

If Ignis Scientia was traitor to Lucis and enemy of the Empire both, then there could be no Ignis Scientia.

He sorted through what few possessions he had: the clothes on his back and the clothing of a servant. His finery, the suit Lunafreya had gifted him, was ruined and would be drafty, and winter was close. He had a few warm things for when he was sent on errands, but he could only take so much. What few precious comforts he had, a few books, a few old mementos of his parents, would have to be left, and he'd only take so much as he could carry or wear. Ignis made to strip the suit off, beginning with the glove, then stopped.

He still recalled the sensation of Prompto's hands in his through the gloves, so warm, so gentle. Prompto's earnest smile was burned into his mind, and whenever Ignis touched the leather, it flashed across his memory.

His remaining glove wasn't heavy or bulky. He could hold onto it.

He also needed a weapon. 

When Ravus returned to the kitchen with Lunafreya in her traveling cloak, the chef’s knives were gone, the door to the back gardens was left open, and there was a trail of blood leading from the foot of the stove into the taiga. Blood was drawn in a message on the floor: _“APOLOGIES TO MILADY.”_

“Ignis, no!” Lunafreya clapped her hands to her mouth, already in tears, but Ravus seized her and wrestled her from the door.

“The man had signed his death warrant when he struck down the Emperor. Taking his own life first was the only mercy he could have had." He grimaced, unable to look at her as she cried. "We must save our own lives now.” 

Ravus and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret fled Fenestala Manor in the night with only Ravus’ loyal retinue as company. Lunafreya wept for the death of a man she’d considered a younger brother, for the trail of blood left, for the loss of her home, but not for herself. She still lived, and she knew the resistance would fight on.

She had only hoped Ignis would continue, too, and knew not how long she would regret never simply telling him to fight on for his own sake.

* * *

The Lucian forces moved for Fenestala Manor first, known to be the home of the Oracle and High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret. Noctis had been wary of coming here - his father's clandestine treatises to High Commander Fleuret had been met almost exclusively with silence. Fleuret had written one letter that, in not so many words, accused Lucis of abandoning their allies in Tenebrae. King Regis had lamented not responding to the blitz on Tenebrae faster, but whenever he had suggested cooperating in private correspondence, Ravus had not responded. He likely wouldn't ally with Lucis now. Fleeing with Lunafreya the night of the ball suggested as much.

Even so, Noctis desperately wanted to see Luna again. He'd been sickly when he was little, and then injured to boot. Luna and her mother, Sylva, had come to help his dad nurse him back to health. Noctis still wasn't especially healthy. His blood pressure was low in the mornings, and some days he woke up in such tremendous pain that he struggled to move, but when he'd been small and sick Lunafreya had coaxed him to stand and keep walking, one foot in front of the other, every day. He did the same today in her honor. 

Whatever awaited them at Fenestala Manor was worth the risk if it meant rescuing her. 

What they discovered was a darkened hall, an empty home, and silence. Prompto pouted at Noctis' side as they explored the empty manor, checking the bedrooms as the soldiers checked the servants' quarters.

"It looks like they fled, everyone here," Gladiolus reported gruffly, face taut. "One of the Glaives said he thinks he found evidence that someone committed suicide, but no body. The kitchen fire's long cold. Nobody's been here in a few days."

"Damn." Noctis looked to Prompto, who bit his lip and balled his fists. Fenestala had been his best hope of finding the man, Ignis, since he'd gone to chase after Ravus and Luna. "Ravus probably went on the run and took everyone. Except someone who didn't want to go."

Gladiolus made a face. "Coward's way out, if you ask me."

Prompto stifled a little whimper. "It's sad. It's even sadder to think about poor Lady Lunafreya being dragged around like that…"

"Hopefully she'll send Umbra or Pryna to get in touch with us." Noctis turned for the doors, grimacing as he thought. "We can't waste time lingering here. We'll find Ravus and the Oracle somehow."

Just as Noctis pushed the door open, one of the Kingsglaive shouted:

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The Kingsglaive had drawn on a man in a cloak, who held his hands up. Noctis noticed a bloody bandage on one hand, and a knife in a makeshift sheath strapped to his waist.

"A servant," the man answered, mild and serene. "Are you seeking the Fleuret family?"

"We are," Noctis replied as he descended the stairs, motioning to the Glaive to stand down. "Do you know of them?"

"Only that they fled two days hence." The man didn't lower his arms. "They were heading west by northwest, towards the Niflheim Wilds." 

Gladiolus swore under his breath behind him, and Noctis sighed. He wasn't surprised, but confirmation of the situation and a bearing were both useful. "Were you a servant here?"

"The only one. The majority of the household was Commander Nox Fleuret's personal retinue. I elected not to flee, to my regret." He sounded sad, and Prompto made a sad noise at Noctis' side.

"You cared about them?"

"Lady Lunafreya was a dear friend."

Ah. Lunafreya, specifically. Noctis looked to Prompto, as Gladiolus hummed.

"You got a name?"

He hesitated, a finger on his lower lip. "I do." Picking himself up like a mannequin on strings, the man bowed at the waist. "Cinis. Cinis Reliquus, at your service."

"At my service?" Noctis frowned, crossing his arms, and the man lifted his face. He was wan but handsome, and he looked intelligent behind his glasses. Something seemed uncanny, and yet but for hesitation to give his name, he'd been forthcoming. "Is that an offer, or pleasantries?"

Cinis appeared surprised, but immediately answered, "An offer, if you'll have me."

"Noct, wait." Gladiolus put himself between Cinis and Noctis, shoulders back. "Reliquus. You're Lucian?"

"My family is, albeit distantly, but I've lived in Tenebrae my entire life." He cleared his throat, faintly smiling. "The accent speaks for itself, you might say."

Prompto chuckled into his hand, but though Gladiolus smirked, he went on. "And you worked for Fleuret?"

"Not willingly." What good humor had been in Cinis' carriage and expression waned. "I must ask, of course, if Lucis comes as liberators or conquerors."

"Liberators," Noctis answered. "Tenebrae was an ally for centuries. My father, King Regis, said losing this country was the biggest mistake he ever made."

"Ah. Then, forgive me, your Highness." With that, Cinis bowed low - was he shaking? Nobody had ever started shaking just looking at him. "I did not know I was in the company of royalty."

"I don't expect the kowtow treatment in the field." Noctis waved a hand. "Or ever. It's alright. You wanted to come with us, then?"

"To aid Lady Lunafreya, and to aid in the liberation of my homeland, yes."

Noctis noticed his eyes flick to Prompto before returning to him.

"I'm a capable servant, you'll find. I can care for your needs, or cook for your men; I tended to High Commander Fleuret’s household, and offer to join your retinue to do the same and better.”

Noctis and Gladiolus traded looks and shared a silent conversation: they could use someone with Cinis’ skills, but the moment there was a possible conflict, they could easily dispatch him. He was a lone man. Prompto, however, had something else on his mind:

“Can I ask you something too?” He took a few steps towards him, and Cinis faced him. Noctis caught something pass through Cinis’ eyes, some sort of emotion or affection Noctis couldn’t name. Did Cinis know him? Prompto hadn’t caught it, whatever it was, as he faced Ignis, looking up past his glasses into his face. “There was a man who was chasing High Commander Fleuret. His name is Ignis, he might have come here. He was wearing blue. Did you see him?”

Cinis was quiet, then said, “I’m afraid I’ve never met a man named Ignis.” 

Prompto was crestfallen. “I see. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Noctis said, frowning as Prompto sulked back to where he’d been standing. “We welcome you to the Lucian Army.”

“Your Highness.” Cinis bowed at the waist, and Noctis walked past him, motioning to the Glaive around them.

“Everyone, we’re moving out. Let’s take our search north. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Noctis saw Cinis fall in line with the rest of the soldiers, and Prompto walked at his side, clearly gathering himself from his first disappointment. 

He would still find Lunafreya, even if not here, and Noctis would make sure Prompto found his Ignis. However, he thought he saw a valuable asset in Cinis, and though there was certainly something he was missing, he had a good feeling about the man. 

* * *

Ignis was finally at his prince’s side. It was both a relief and a new weight.

Noctis' force was meant to be a small blitz unit, and they lacked an auxiliary unit. This was mostly acceptable for them. Noctis could handle injuries with such a small retinue - the same Royal magic that let him warp across the battlefield, appearing and reappearing like a shadow, let him heal physical wounds with some effort. The rest of the personal upkeep could be handled by the soldiers themselves. Until he'd joined, the soldiers were each responsible for feeding their own squads, handling their own laundry, doing their own cleaning. Now, Ignis made breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all of the Kingsglaive accompanying Prince Noctis, as well as Prince Prompto, who now wore the Lucian black. All of the Kingsglaive lined up in front of the pot at his call, each one of them thanked him, and Prompto wouldn’t take his bowl until Ignis had ladled some out for himself. Then the Kingsglaive helped with the washing, usually with the King's personal bodyguard lifting the empty pot to turn out the dregs himself.

"Wouldn't want you hurting yourself trying, you just fed an army," Gladiolus had chuckled with unnecessary warmth. He didn't need to be so friendly, but Ignis appreciated it nonetheless.

Ignis helped with mending clothes the Glaive soldiers couldn't handle themselves, and more than once, he caught Noctis telling soldiers to do some of their own repairs:

"There's only one of him taking care of all of us. I want an auxiliary unit as much as anyone else, but Cinis is one man. Let's not overload the only man who volunteered to do any of it for us."

Ignis had handled much more than this under Ravus for a fraction of the gratitude. He would have stitched as many rips as he was given and replaced as many buttons as there were spares to be had so long as he got a warm 'thank you' and a handshake or a pat on the back. Gratitude was better recompense than he’d ever received from Ravus. Noctis' smile and Prompto's awe were bonuses.

Ignis marched with the army when they were on the move, often with Prompto or Noctis nearby. Noctis would ask him about Tenebrae, the conditions or the Imperial Army's recent movements. Ignis had eavesdropped on enough of Ravus' conversations to tell Noctis anything and everything he wanted to know. Prompto mostly checked on him, asked if he was holding up alright, or made conversation. 

"You see that mountain there? They say a great big turtle is sleeping under it." Ignis squinted through the chilly wind and faint flurries into the distance at a great hill. "They say it's been sleeping there for centuries, but it'll wake up when it gets hungry."

"Is that so?" Ignis chortled through his nose. "It reminds me of the legendary Adamantoise of Lucis."

"Oh, wow!" Prompto spun back to Gladiolus. "Why didn't you tell me about the Adamantoise?"

"You didn't ask." Gladiolus’ eyes gleamed with amusement, until his gaze turned on Ignis with curiosity. "Surprised he knows about it."

"It's an old story from my boyhood. I did have family in Lucis, after all.” He smiled wanly to himself, wishing he could mask the fond crinkles at the edges of his eyes. Prompto walked close to him as he told the familiar story, warm at his side.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49211374186/in/album-72157712071893628/)

Ignis got chances to prove his worth more than once. The first base they encountered after Fenestala was an isolated outpost overflowing with Imperial foot soldiers, unnerving in their metal armor and masks. Ignis stood back, guarding the equipment with one three-man squad of Glaive soldiers. He had been catching up on the mending when he saw the distinct silhouette of Gladiolus approaching. One of the Glaive waved to hail him, but Ignis noticed the bulky shape on his shoulder and his loping, uneven gait - he was carrying someone. 

"Lord Amicitia!" Ignis hurried to his feet and bolted towards Gladiolus. Sure enough, Noctis was flung over his shoulder, limp like a rag doll. Gladiolus waved Ignis off.

"He overdid it with his magic! I need to get him out of the fray. The others are doing clean-up."

Ignis was about to ask what Noctis needed to recover when he spotted one of the Imperial soldiers roaring up the hill, sword drawn. He grabbed the kitchen knife off the pouch at his waist and threw it as hard as he could, planting it firmly in a gap in the breastplate of the soldier's armor. Ignis ran to grab his knife out, leaving Gladiolus gaping and mouthing an oath in his wake.

"Take His Highness and go!" Ignis retrieved his knife out of the Imperial soldier's chest, just as the three Glaives who had been on guard ran past him to waylay the pursuing enemy.

"Go with Gladio, Cinis!" A female soldier gave him a cocky grin as she ran past. "Next time you come on the field, bring some proper weapons!"

Ignis did follow Gladiolus back to camp and, at his direction, prepared soup for Prince Noctis (with enough for everyone else, of course). One of the other Glaives brought his knife back while he was working, precariously cleaned. Ignis tried not to look too closely at it. By the time dinner was done, however, Noctis had revived and Gladiolus was crouched by his bedroll with Prompto kneeling at his shoulder, whispering:

"... Threw it. Hit the enemy square and true. Like he's been doing it his whole life. Then he cleaned the thing, sharpened it, and made dinner."

"Whoa." Prompto clapped his hands over his mouth. "He cooks, he sews, he kills Imperials - we're lucky he's on our side!"

Ignis knew they were talking about him, and he cleared his throat. All three turned to him, Noctis sitting up in bed. “Highnesses, Lord Amicitia-”

“Noct.”

“Gladio. Seriously.”

“Prompto’s fine, please.” 

“Ah.” Ignis cleared his throat, and set down the tray he was carrying. He handed around bowls of soup. “Here we are, gentlemen.”

“Hey, Cinis?” Noctis reached for the hem of his jacket. “C’mere.”

Ignis stilled, as Noctis looked him in the face.

“You’ve got some skills. Gladio says you saved the two of us.” He held his hands out. “Touch my palms. I’m giving you a gift.”

Ignis warily looked between Gladiolus and Prompto, Gladiolus contented and proud, Prompto eager, and cautiously put his rough, calloused hands onto Noctis’ palms. In an instant, two blades, black metal, black hilts trimmed with gold, appeared in Noctis’ hands, and he held them out to Ignis.

Ignis gasped. “Your Highness-!” 

“Noct. Please.” Noctis shook his head. “These are for you. They’re in my Armiger. All you have to do is think of them and pull them towards you in your mind, and they’re yours.”

Ignis inhaled. “You gave me access to your magic?”

Noctis nodded. “You’ve been nothing but helpful for the past few days. Anyone would be grateful to have you at their side.” 

Ignis felt a throb of emotion deep in his breast, his breath trembling taut in his lungs like the moment would burst if he exhaled. It didn’t. Noctis put the twin daggers in his hands, and Prompto slapped his back with appreciation.

“It’s good to know you have our backs.” Prompto chuckled, blushing as he met Ignis' eyes. “You know, literally!”

“Y-yes. Always.” Ignis stepped back, holding the daggers at his sides as he bowed. “My gratitudes, your Highnesses.”

All three of them groaned, and Gladiolus stood, turning to Ignis. “Cinis, listen. We had our questions, but you’ve proved yourself. We’re all friends here.”

Ignis winced as Gladiolus advanced and planted his palms on his shoulders.

“If you’re ready to fight for Tenebrae and everywhere else the Empire gobbled up, then I’ll be the first guy cheering you on.”

Cheering him on. Trusting him. Ignis hadn’t felt this close to any other people since his family had been alive. 

He hated that it had to be _Cinis_ that they considered a comrade.

Ignis had made the most logical decision he could conceive, given his fear of dying before accomplishing anything of worth with his life and knowing that Ignis Scientia, king-killer, was enemy of Lucis and Niflheim both. He would kill Ignis Scientia by his own hand. If the last scion of House Scientia had betrayed and made enemies of Lucis, then Ignis simply wouldn’t be a Scientia. However, an anonymous nobody, a plebian forced to obey Niflheim like any other common man, would be called brave for defecting. Cinis Reliquus, who loved Tenebrae and the Oracle, could be a loyal servant to Princes Noctis and Prompto. 

No matter how much more he wanted to be. Noctis’ pride in him was better and heavier than all the gold in the Imperial vault; Prompto’s admiration, more valuable and more burdensome than all the silver on Eos. Their trust was a burden because Ignis knew _he_ hadn’t earned it. 

He knew he was lying.

He also knew that there were things they did not yet trust him with, as he heard the conversation change as he left Noctis’ area of the camp.

“Did you ask, Prompto?”

“Y… yeah.” Prompto sounded anxious. “I asked all the people in charge while we were shackling them, before the Glaive hauled them off for the border. Showed it to ‘em. Nobody knew the name, nobody knew anything.” He heaved a sigh, and Ignis saw him slump over out of the corner of his eye. “I know we’ve only tried twice but it feels hopeless already.”

Gladiolus snorted. “Wuss.”

“Shut up!” Ignis heard Prompto slap ineffectually at Gladio’s arm, and walked away. 

They had some secret mission to which he was not privy. Ignis did his best not to stick his nose in or be any more curious than he had to.

He persisted. He would bear the weight of his own guilt, of his secrets, until he could either accept that he was no longer the man he had been born to be nor the man who had met and become entranced by a kind and trusting boy set to a trying task. 

He sat by the dying embers of his work fire, watching the moon rise as the Glaives all turned in and set up their tents and bedrolls for the night, and breathed deep the distant scent of withering sylleblossoms. Then, there was warmth at his side.

“Cin?” Prompto had sat down beside him. “Are you okay? You look so sad.”

Ignis inhaled, but turned his face. “Apologies, I’m thinking.” 

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” 

Ignis looked to Prompto, his innocent, kind eyes, and Prompto covered Ignis’ hand with his own, such a gentle touch. Ignis swallowed. “I… suppose I was merely thinking of our mission. It’s a difficult task that’s been given to us.”

“Yeah.” Prompto fidgeted next to him. “It’s a lot. Plus, I kinda wonder what’ll happen after.”

“After,” Ignis repeated. “I suppose I don’t know.”

That realization was an uncomfortable one, tightening his joints as it settled in his mind: someday, there would not be a war to fight, and perhaps sooner than he'd anticipated. Who would Ignis be then? Would he still be welcome at their sides? Or would he simply have to live with only the memory of what his fate could have been? Could he even live with that?

"I simply don't know," he repeated with a weary sigh.

“Me neither.” Prompto inched closer to him. “I dunno who’s gonna be in charge of everything, or what the plan is. I know I’m definitely not ready to rule Niflheim, even after we get rid of all the places that were taken over.” He bit his lip. “Noct said his dad was looking to restore the deposed rulers, but that might be hard, and for Gralea, apparently _I’m_ it. Or, I’m supposed to be. I don’t actually know who or what I am.”

Ignis frowned and turned to Prompto, as he traced little circles in the dirt. “As it happens, I do.” Ignis twisted to take a knee in front of him. “You are Prompto Argent. Whether or not you wish to be called Aldercapt will be your decision. You are a brave and kind young man who wears a smile for everyone even when the weight of the world rests on you, and those around you are deeply grateful for it.” 

Prompto flushed deep red at Ignis’ gentle praise and affection, and took his hands. “Aw, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m not that great.” Prompto shook his head, then squeezed Ignis’ fingers. “But you’re amazing.”

“You jest.” Ignis felt breathless at Prompto’s affectionate touch.

“No, really! The Empire was trying to drive how to be a good prince into me for years, and I’m still kind of a flop.” He shrugged his cloak down his shoulders, then showed Ignis his crossbow. “This is the easiest weapon someone like me could have, point and shoot, and I’m not helpful for much else.” He laughed uneasily. “I mean, Noct and Gladio, they’re the smart ones who know where we’re going and what we’re doing, and I’m just along for the ride. But you, we just met you, and you can do so much without having to be told how!”

“And you’re still here, willing to try.” Ignis squeezed his hands in return. His own callouses scraped against the sides of his fingers, but Prompto smiled as if Ignis’ touch was the balm he needed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m doing my best. Thank you, and thank you for coming along with us.” He settled at Ignis’ side. “If there's nowhere else for you when this is over, I'll make sure you're taken care of. Wherever I end up, come with me, okay?"

_Follow my lead. Stay close. Stay with me._

Ignis smiled again. "Wherever you lead me, Highness."

"Please just call me Prompto."

"If you insist."

"I do." Prompto gripped his hand tight, grinning, and Ignis basked in the warmth of that gesture.

They sat there together for a long time. Ignis knew that he would likely never be at Prompto's side again, but _Cinis_ could be. If this was his only option, he would bear that guilt and whatever came with it.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lucian company marches on through Niflheim as Prompto wars with his feelings for both Ignis and Cinis. However, the war rages on, and Ignis and the Princes will soon face a danger the likes of which none of them could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some amazing art, but mind the tags for violence.

**3.**

Dawn streaked pale blue and pink across the snow as the Lucian company marched on. Winter set in early on the plains of the Tenebraean countryside as they bled into the Niflheim wildlands, the lush plains freezing to tundra before Novembris ended. Prompto had spent the weeks after his birthday marching the countryside, busting bases and capturing the Niflheim generals, one by one. They faced some opposition, but nothing that couldn't stand up to Noctis and Gladiolus. Without the Emperor to move the chess pieces or fueling the flames, the Empire's command was in shambles. Without direction or leadership, the Empire's elite were sitting ducks.

Noctis, Gladiolus, and the Glaives would bust in, capture or kill anyone in their way, then line up the surviving command to be sent to Lucis as prisoners. Before they were escorted away, however, Prompto was allowed to ask each of them:

"I'm looking for a man named Ignis. He was last seen at the Imperial Ball, wearing blue, pursuing Ravus Nox Fleuret. Maybe you saw him wearing a glove like this." Prompto would show the glove, biting his lip. He couldn't divulge too much about what he was seeking, but merely stated the plainest and safest version of the facts and asked: "Have you seen him?"

The answer came in variations on a theme:

"I don't know him."

"I didn't see that man."

"What are you even talking about?"

Between this failure, and finally receiving word from Luna in the form of Pryna bringing a letter of apology that she didn't know where she was but that Ravus kept moving them and was telling her nothing, Prompto was learning the meaning of the phrase "at the end of one's rope."

Prompto was exhausted of seeking Ignis and finding nothing, but he had to ask every time because _What if he saw him? What if it's different this time? What if Ignis is here?_

"What if they're lying?" Prompto had wondered more than once, but Gladiolus shook his head. 

"It doesn't sound like they are. They're usually caught off-guard by the question."

He moaned and slumped onto the camp table face first next to his bowl. His coffee mug rattled, but Prompto grabbed it to keep it from tipping - Cinis’ coffee was too good to waste. None of the other soldiers at other tables took notice of Prompto’s overdramatization of frustration, and Noctis reached across and patted his hair. "It's rough. I know you've been disappointed more than a few times."

"You can stop anytime," Gladiolus said, neutral and careful. "Maybe this Ignis is gone with the wind. Maybe it was a fake name."

"I don't want to stop! Even if it's just to hear that Ravus-" He choked on the words, then softened them, " _did away_ with him, I just need to know. I only knew him an hour or two but he was my friend."

" _Just_ a friend?" Noctis was teasing, smiling, but it burned Prompto the same.

"I didn't have a chance to figure out if it was more. But I want to!" He groaned and pressed his forehead into the table. "I just… Wanna know…"

"Prompto?" Cinis approached, a cloth in hand. Prompto could smell herbs on him, as well as the coal from the fires. "Are you unwell?"

Prompto caught Gladiolus hiding a grin as Cinis, lips pursed, wiped the dust from Prompto's cheek, then touched his forehead with a weather-worn hand. Prompto could hardly stand to think of Cinis going out of his way again - not since he'd joined the raiding parties, daggers at the ready, and still kept acting as auxiliary. Even so, Cinis always made time for him, had extra concern for him, a kind word ready for him.

What was he complaining about? Prompto could dream of Ignis, but Cinis was here with him, just as amazing as Ignis had been in the brief minutes when their lives had touched, yet nobody pined for him. 

He ducked out from under Cinis' touch, keeping his face low. "N-no, I'm fine. Just frustrated, and tired, and it seems like no matter how hard we try, I feel like nothing gets done."

"Hey, we got a lot done." Noctis crossed his arms. "We've swept about half of the Imperial bases out of Tenebrae and the southern regions of Niflheim, and I know my dad is sending in a bigger cleanup force behind us to wipe out the small fry. What’s left of the Empire is unorganized and exhausted.”

“The real work will be in rebuilding governments in the territories that Niflheim ate, but you shouldn’t worry about that yet.” Gladiolus patted his back, and Prompto groaned.

“Where does that leave me? I’m still kinda the Crown Prince.”

“With me.” Noctis smiled at him, then turned to Cinis, grinning. “You’ll have to come with and keep him company, while we help Prompto get ready to take over.”

“Is that the plan?” Cinis cocked his head.

“Yeah.” Prompto looked between Noctis and Gladiolus and put on a wobbly smile. “Noct said his dad invited me back to Insomnia, to help teach me how to be a king, but for real, and he’ll help me rule Niflheim from there if that's what I want.” 

“You’re invited, of course.” Gladiolus grinned at Cinis, who smiled back, but Prompto could see an edge of discomfort in his smile. “You’ve more than earned honors.”

“If… if you’d prefer, then…” Cinis hesitated, but Prompto reached up and patted his hand.

“You’re worried you’ll miss Tenebrae, right?” He smiled fondly, but Cinis tensed a little more. “When Tenebrae is free, you can come back and go back to where you can be happy, if that's what you like.”

“Ah. I suppose I’ll see. I’m not certain what I have in Tenebrae or Insomnia.” Cinis turned, but Prompto grabbed his hand. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I told you, remember?” He managed an earnest smile, and Cinis returned it.

“You did; I trust you. Thank you.” Cinis paused and bowed at the waist. “I’ll finish serving meals and get to the cleaning. Pardon-"

"I'll wash the pot. Seriously, you do enough." Gladiolus crossed his arms. "It'd be nice if the Princes Charmless here worked half as hard as you."

"Hey!" Noctis sounded indignant as Cinis hid an amused smile.

"I'm plenty charming." Prompto stuck his lip out, then tugged Cinis' sleeve. "Sit and eat with me. You deserve a break too, y'know?"

"You're kind, H- Prompto. Very well, afford me but a moment more." He left, drawing his cloak around his shoulders, and when Prompto turned from watching him leave, it was to find Noctis and Gladiolus giving him matching broad, cheeky grins. Heat crept up his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." Gladiolus leaned back, still smirking. "Only, when you do find Ignis, he's gonna be jealous of Cinis."

"Wh-what?!" Forget heat, Prompto was on fire. Noctis chuckled.

"You're mooning. It's a little adorable, except you're already searching for one lost love."

"I don't love Ignis! I don't know for sure, but I want to meet him and find out!" Prompto realized he'd been nearly shouting, and forced himself to whisper, "I wanted to know. If… if that feeling I had… But Cinis… I've known him for a few months, so now…"

"You know how you feel about him," Gladiolus said conclusively, sparing Prompto straining any longer. Prompto shook his head.

"I'm… more sure. I want to be around him all the time and I want to see him smile more. That sounds dumb, doesn't it?"

"I'm not a fan of how melancholy he is all the time, either." Noctis folded his arms. "Just to confide in you? Given his talents and all he's done for us, when I sent word to my father, I asked permission to make him a Chamberlain."

"Really?" Prompto gawked. 

"Yeah. Dad said he was looking into something, but he said that after the court talks to him and if Cinis agrees, he'll be titled in Lucis and be my advisor." Noctis drummed his fingers on the table. "If you decide to step up in Gralea, that might complicate anything you two have, but…"

"I don't know if I want that." Prompto shook his head. "I'd rather stay with you and help make the world a better place from Lucis, and maybe establish someone who knows what they're doing in charge."

"The regent route," Gladiolus remarked. "Not a bad idea, especially if you don't feel confident to lead."

"It's neither here nor there, but my point is, we want him in Lucis, in Insomnia, and preferably in the Citadel. If we can't find and help him achieve his heart's desire there, I don't know if he'll find it anywhere." Noctis furrowed his brow, but when he looked back up to Prompto, his eyes locked on something past Prompto. "Here he comes. Go on, why not try to make it so _you_ can keep his heart's desire in Insomnia." He rose, motioning to Gladiolus with a cheeky grin, and Prompto craned his neck back to see Cinis approaching with a bowl. He smiled fondly as they locked eyes.

"Prompto." He seated himself across the camp table from him, then reached for him. "Do hold still a moment?" Prompto stilled, but the touch of Cinis' hand always made his heart burst with excitement. Cinis, however, looked puzzled as he withdrew. "You're still flushed, and you feel warm."

Prompto hoped he wasn't blushing that obviously. "I did just have a bowl of porridge."

"Certainly, but… hm. Promise me that if I give you some extra broth at noontide and dinner, you'll drink it."

Prompto did blush that time. "Sure. You're the best, Cin."

Cinis' worried expression cleared like the sun breaking through the clouds. "You're too kind."

"I think I'm just kind enough." Prompto grinned, heart thudding low in his chest, and Cinis laughed.

Maybe it was that smile, that laugh, that rich voice like warm honey. (Ignis' voice had been beautiful, too - maybe Prompto just liked Tenebraen accents.) Maybe it was those clever eyes and quick wit. (Ignis had been just the same.) Whatever it was, Prompto's heart ached when he laid eyes on him, and he never wanted to be without Cinis.

At the same time, he ached with guilt, because he still wanted to lay eyes on Ignis at least one more time, to know he was alive, and to know if his heart was true.

* * *

Winter chill set in the bones of the Lucian soldiers, and too quickly, chilled bones and flushed cheeks gave way to fever. The night the Lucian force arrived at the hold south of the Ghorovas Rift, Noctis was being carried on Gladiolus’ back, too weak to walk, and Prompto was barely upright himself. As the Glaives suited up for battle, Gladiolus pitched a tent for Noctis in the snow in the shadows of the fortress and laid him down in his bedroll.

"He's in no condition to fight. Damn." Gladiolus’ face pinched, sour and exhausted, and he looked past Ignis to Prompto, miraculously still upright. "Blondie there ain't looking much better."

Ignis glanced back to Prompto where he swayed, pale face flushed baby pink with fever. He opened an arm, unable to keep sadness from his face or voice. "Come here, my dear. You must want to sleep, too."

Prompto whimpered and shook his head. Gladiolus sighed and opened the tent flap wide. "It's okay, Prompto. You need to rest. You've been strong enough for one day." Noctis shivered as the bitter chill came in, and Gladiolus gave a firm nod as Prompto hesitated. "Go on. You can keep Noct company." Prompto finally relented and clambered in with murmured thanks. Ignis passed him his bedroll out of Noctis' Armiger storage, as well as an extra blanket.

"I know you're feverish, but you need to keep warm." He tucked the blanket down around Prompto and Noctis both, and Prompto shook his head.

"M'okay, Cin. I'm just gonna keep watch over Noct, see?" He held his hands up, and his crossbows appeared, strapping themselves around his wrists. "I'll keep 'im safe." He smiled sleepily, and Ignis' heart strained at its bonds, fit to pull itself out of his breast.

"I believe in you. You stay here." He closed the tent flap, and Gladiolus tied it tight to keep the bitter winds out, then motioned silently for Ignis to follow him.

Out of earshot. 

"I don't like this," Gladiolus told Ignis as they moved from the royals’ tent towards the Glaives setting up their camps. "We're in their sights, but this is the only place fit to camp. We can't move again tonight. If we were any better concealed, we could wait for Noct and Prompto to get back on their feet, but there's no solid cover for miles." He eyed the fortress' tower and the lights gleaming in the window. "As we are, they'll make us by morning's light, and that's if they don't spot the fire I'm about to build for Noct." Gladiolus’ jaw worked silently for a moment. "I know the risks, but I also know the risk of leaving them without some warmth. Noct was frail when he was younger. I push him hard because I don't want him to give up, but when he's actually sick or in pain, I kinda draw the line." 

"Tough love," Ignis reasoned.

"Yeah." Gladiolus smiled, tired but affectionate, then shook it off. "Point is, he's not getting up until morning, but either we need to be gone by morning, or they do."

"Are you certain that's wise?" Ignis found Gladiolus to be reasonable at his best. Gladiolus, obviously stressed, shook his head.

"I know our status. We're thin on manpower with the expeditionary force still escorting the captives from the last raid, and with Prompto and Noctis down, we've lost our strongest individual fighter and some very effective backup." Gladiolus huffed, his frustration made visible with a puff of steam. "Worse, I'm about to ask a competent man to stay behind."

Ignis raised an eyebrow as Gladiolus loomed tall over him and looked down into his face. "Cinis, I have to lead the raid tonight, but there's good odds some of the men holed up in there will get away from us. I want you between Noctis and anyone who might try to hurt him when I'm away." He thumped his chest. "I'll subdue and capture the important Niff figureheads if I can, kill the ones I can't, but the small fry might go by the wayside. If they come near our camp or my prince…"

"They won't see morning." Ignis put his hand to his breast. "I can't say I agree, but simultaneously, I have no better ideas."

Gladiolus laughed weakly. "Yeah, like my idea's 'good.' Tonight won't be easy." He punched Ignis’ shoulder. "But I'm glad I can depend on you."

Ignis felt weak for a moment, but he shook his head. "Of course. I only hope I live up to expectations."

"I know you'll exceed them." Gladiolus smirked. "Nobody cares about them like you."

"I disagree." Ignis forced a wan smile. "You care about Noctis quite deeply. A tough love to be sure, but devoted nonetheless."

Gladiolus' expression softened. "Yeah?" He glanced sideways. "Maybe. It's the Shield's job to lay down his life for his King. I won't say I wouldn't do that and more for Noct." He heaved a sigh and put his fist over his own heart and bowed his head. Then, he picked himself up, still wistful but sounding more solid. "Go on, see if you can get a fire going by the tent. I'm gonna talk to the Glaives."

Ignis built the fire high so the two younger men could feel its warmth through the tent, and sat by it, preparing a pot of coffee. He could see Gladiolus rounding up the Glaives and having them prepare for the raid. A thread of apprehension seemed to run through the small encampment, plucked and shivering with each sword strapped on a waist, each man declaring himself ready to move, each step they came closer to the raid. Ignis tried to ignore the tension winding in him in favor of stoking the coals. Gladiolus returned a little later, armed and in full uniform. However, he bypassed Ignis to crouch down and peek into the tent. 

"Cinis is staying behind. Call for him if you need him." 

Prompto answered, "M'fine. I'm watchin' Noct, see?"

Gladiolus chuckled and shook his head. "Then who's watching you? It's okay. We got this. Get some rest." Ignis heard the blankets rustle as Gladiolus leaned into the tent. "Stay here, Noct." Noctis didn't respond, or if he did, Ignis couldn't hear. Gladiolus closed the tent again and returned to stand over Ignis. "I'm trusting you with their lives."

"I may not have sworn the same oath as you, but rest assured I would swear it here and now were I asked.” Ignis held Gladiolus’ gaze. “I will protect their lives with my own, should it come to that.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

With that, Gladiolus departed, trailed by the rest of the Glaives. Ignis kept watch over the tundra, sipping coffee to keep himself awake and edging closer and closer to the fire as the chill of the night set in. He soon heard the chaos of the raid, but he didn't hear Noctis or Prompto rousing from their sickbed, and that was peace enough for him. He kept his daggers ready as he surveyed the flat tableau of frozen field, as the fires pitched in the fortress, as the sounds of fighting began to fade. The coffee carafe was empty. Noctis let out a snore. Ignis' eyelids were heavy. He thought to put the kettle back on for a fresh brew…

Ignis woke to the smell of the kettle scorching, chased by a sudden burst of anger at himself for having let himself drift off. He tossed the kettle, the water long since boiled off and the bottom black, onto the tundra to cool, then readied his daggers and took a slow peruse of the field. There was still noise above, quieter now, but Ignis saw nothing coming. 

Then.

"A shame about the coffee."

Behind him! Ignis jumped to his feet and spun around, and found himself facing a man he didn't recognize propped against the tent, wearing a tattered greatcoat, with curly red hair like blood in the fire's light. He smirked at Ignis, and Ignis recognized him - the Chancellor who'd welcomed them to Zegnautus.

The Chancellor rubbed his stubble-coated chin, then slid his long fingers between the tent flaps, where the two sick princes mercifully still slept. "If you're so tired you're falling asleep trying to make more coffee, perhaps we can ask your friends here for assistance?"

"No." Ignis felt the fire in his voice on his tongue as he summoned his daggers, but the Chancellor loped forward, putting his back to the tent. Ignis' will faltered - if he threw and missed, then he'd likely strike Prompto or Noctis. "Leave them be. You've lost, you-"

"Lost? I know precisely where I stand, thank you." The Chancellor spoke in a velvety purr that rubbed Ignis all the wrong ways, sending gooseflesh running up his arms and spine. "As for you, you must be exhausted. A heart so full of love is a heavy burden to carry, not to mention the weight of your guilty secrets."

Ignis could immolate on the anger that seized him at the insinuation. "You know nothing of me-"

"Don't I? You're Ravus' house boy." The Chancellor's smirk went sinister as he stepped closer to Ignis, to the campfire. "Goodness, I wonder what Lucis thinks of you." There was a rustle within the tent - one of the princes rousing.

_No._

"You know nothing of me." Ignis ground his teeth together.

"More than you think." The Chancellor clicked his tongue and adjusted his hat. "I know you were nearly beheaded as a boy for your family's loyalty to Lucis, until Ravus Nox Fleuret interceded. Then, you scraped at his feet for over a decade."

"I survived," Ignis countered. "And I will survive."

"Will you? A man who divides himself between two goals will surely bleed himself dry before succeeding in either. Would you carve your heart in two? Perhaps we can come to another arrangement." The Chancellor stepped forward. "The Empire is on its last legs, you and I are both aware. However, a bit of fire can change everything, and perhaps you can get everything you want." The Chancellor held up his palms like the balance of a scale. "Half of the Empire's remaining leadership sees Ravus as traitor, the other half as savior. One victory in his name will tip the balance in his favor." He gestured to the tent. "Let me take these boys to Ravus. Let him ascend to rule the Imperial territory. You can stand at his right hand instead of kneel, and as the man who killed the mad Emperor, you would stand _tall._ "

Ignis gripped the hilts of his daggers. "That you make such an offer tells me you know nothing about me."

"Don't I? Don't you love these young men enough to die for them?" The Chancellor clicked his tongue. "And don't you so fear being exposed? If you stand by them, you can never reveal what you are to either of them. If you stand down and let them be conquered, you could be you again. They would speak your name whenever they saw you." The Chancellor's fingers squeezed at his sides, as if he knew he was tugging Ignis' heartstrings.

He thought about it for a moment - his two princes, at peace under another's hand. No more danger. Ignis would serve them happily even if neither boy would ever take his rightful throne. It would have been simply perfect… had Ignis not so loved his own freedom, and those two young men above himself. 

"If the price of being with them, the way they want to live, is my very soul, I would give it," Ignis ground out, squeezing the knife in his hand. "You know _nothing_ of me!"

Ignis' voice broke, as pain bloomed in his breast, and he realized the Chancellor had extended a hand and pointed a crossbow at his chest. The bolt jutted out from under his breastbone. The Chancellor, unnervingly, smiled yet, the perfect picture of genteel politeness.

"Then I'm afraid I'll simply have to learn you, inside and out." He discarded the crossbow and drew a sword. "Let's begin with the inside, shall we?"

Ignis inhaled - the last breath he might ever take, he realized when he tasted blood in his throat - cursed himself for letting his guard down, and leapt towards the Chancellor, daggers out. 

If he died doing it, he would ensure the Chancellor never touched those precious boys, all of his worthless dreams be damned. 

The Chancellor caught his first strike and tossed him back, but Ignis, driven with passion, turned into the block to slash with the other knife. The Chancellor dodged and stepped around to strike at Ignis' back, but Ignis rolled with the blow and sidestepped the blade, drawing the Chancellor close to the fire. Ignis' breathing was labored and ragged in his own ears, but he couldn't hear the fighting now, couldn't hear anything but the Chancellor's low taunt, "You could have lived through this, you know?"

Ignis readied himself to block another strike when the Chancellor lifted his shoulder, but the Chancellor instead kicked him hard in the gut and Ignis couldn't dodge fast enough. The impact crumpled him in the hot ashes at the base of the campfire, and his left arm, knife still in his hand, landed in the blaze. 

Ignis screamed.

The Chancellor laughed as Ignis rolled from the fire, dropping his daggers as he clutched his scorched arm and hand to his chest. "Oh, my dear boy! Hasn't a decade of sleeping in Ravus' cinders taught you anything? Let's begin with the simple things: fires burn hot!" He sauntered towards him, picking up one of Ignis' dropped daggers, red-hot from lying in the embers, in a gloved hand. "Perhaps a repetition of the lesson?" The Chancellor kicked Ignis' glasses away, sending them skittering across the tundra, then laid the hot blade across Ignis' left eye and down his cheek. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49244971073/in/dateposted-public/)

Ignis couldn't draw in enough air to scream again. He retched blood when he tried. The dagger split his lip and cut into his face before the Chancellor lifted it again. Someone was screaming for Cinis, but Ignis was more than half blinded and the world was growing dark. 

"You played with fire when you envied for more than your place, boy," the Chancellor whispered. "Be grateful you can only make this mistake once." 

The Chancellor lifted the blade, aiming for Ignis' heart. Ignis waited on the last scrap of breath he held for the final pain.

Then, a yell. A scream. Something flew from the darkness, two hands, two arms, black uniform, yellow hair, _Prompto seizing the Chancellor's arm and holding him back!_ Ignis would have spent his last breath weeping for relief if Prompto wasn't still screaming:

"NOCT! WE NEED HELP!"

Noctis was at his side in the next blink, holding his burnt hand and arm, his own face still feverish but his eyes wet with worry and fear. "Cinis," he gasped, and Ignis felt an eerie tingle down his arm. 

Things were louder all of a sudden, and Ignis could hear Gladiolus screaming indistinctly, the sounds of a one-sided fight, but all Ignis could hear was Noctis' unsteady breathing as he channeled his magic into Ignis' injuries.

"I'm sorry," he whispered over and over like a mantra, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I wish I'd been here sooner, I would've saved you…" He swallowed twice, as Ignis squeezed his uninjured eye shut tight and pretended he could be talking about anything else. "Gladio! He's been shot!"

"Pierced or run through?"

Noctis looked and sounded nauseous: "Pierced. It's _in_ his chest."

"I'll pull it out in a sec, but I'm a little busy!" Gladiolus' voice was strained with effort, and Ignis could see the shadow play of a scuffle at his feet as Gladiolus, Prompto, and the Glaives faced down with the Chancellor. Ignis wanted to laugh.

"Apologies… Too weak," he rasped, and Noctis moaned.

"Cinis, hold on, I swear on the Six!"

The Glaives had subdued the Chancellor, his arms restrained, forced to his knees. Ignis could faintly see his shadow cast long in the fire, as Prompto shakily picked up Ignis' other dropped dagger.

"I have one question for you." Prompto put the point of the blade at the Chancellor's throat. "Do you know Ignis, the man who killed the Emperor? Do you know where he is?"

Silence reigned for a precious second. Ignis exhaled, hoping to expire before the Chancellor gave his answer, but the Chancellor never spoke. Instead, after a long moment where all Ignis heard was the crackle of the fire and Noctis' soft pleas for him to live, to hold on, just a little longer, the Chancellor broke his silence with a laugh.

He laughed, harder and harder, the noise spiraling like a star careening from the sky, until Prompto finally drove the knife into his heart.

Ignis' vision went black as consciousness failed him.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladiolus contends with the reality their forces face: they are short on men, left weakened, their leader sick, and one of their best men injured. While Noctis' Lucian blitz crew can go no further, Ignis still seeks retribution on behalf of his princes and will burn his life down to the wick to achieve it. Will Ignis give his very last breath for the sake of his Princes, or will there be a hand waiting to take his when dawn rises?

**4.**

Dawn came colder than ever. Silence ruled the Lucian camp as Gladio stirred a big pot of porridge and hoped that it would be enough to feed everyone. However few of them remained.

Their force had left Lucis with twenty-five, and now they stood at eleven. Four men had died in the raid two nights before. Four more had needed to depart to escort their prisoners to the border, and the last escort party they'd sent still hadn't returned. Probably had joined with the main force heading their way, Gladio mused, and a regiment that large moved much slower. Their small force, however, was left crippled by its own victories.

Besides all that, they had lost something much more valuable in the raid two nights ago.

Cinis, the gentle, kind, generous Tenebraen _volunteer_ who'd fought at their side and taken care of all of them, and especially their two princes, had been maimed. Every Glaive knew and cared for the stranger in their midst, but they'd left him alone for the sake of the raid, guarding their most valuable asset, and he'd nearly lost his life doing so. Now, he was mutilated and disabled; traumatized from the experience. Gladio wondered if death wouldn't have been kinder than living with those memories.

His left eye was gone, burnt out and sealed shut with a vicious scar. His left hand and arm up to the elbow were scorched with burns that Noctis strained to heal. When Cinis moved, it was with obvious pain, and every breath he drew was strained as he expelled the blood still sitting in his lungs. Noctis came to him every hour to heal what he could, forcing what energy he could summon into Cinis to knit broken flesh and purge the blood and fluid from his chest, but Noctis was still sick and now weak with grief. Prompto was hardly better - he couldn't do anything for Cinis but hold his hand and plead with him to hold onto life.

Cinis hadn't spoken since the night of the raid, not since Gladio had heard him bellow in agony from where he writhed in the fire. Gladio wished he could have run a little faster, had been closer, _had never left them all there_ , but the damage was done. He couldn't change the past, but he could try to fix what remained.

"Soup's on," he announced to the Glaives malingering at the camp tables, and the soldiers all moved to serve themselves. Gladio personally carried bowls for Noctis, Prompto, and Cinis. 

Cinis was sitting up now. It was a change and a relief; he'd been prone and unmoving the entire previous day. Now, he was upright, with Prompto wrapped around his damaged left arm and Noctis holding his right hand as he strained to continue healing him. Noctis was inept as a healer, more skilled at channeling his energy into twisting through the ether, but now he was doing all he could to hasten Cinis' recovery, if recovery was even possible. Gladio put the bowls down as he sat in front of the three of them in the tent. He looked from eye to eye - Prompto teary, Noctis red-rimmed and exhausted, Cinis' remaining eye deep-set and purple underneath. He didn't know what to say, but he had to try.

"How ya feelin' today, Cinis?"

Cinis' eye flicked down to the porridge, but he didn't speak. Fine, maybe he still wasn't feeling up to words. Gladio would let him slide.

Gladio turned his gaze to Noctis. "You holding up alright? Feeling better?"

"Better," Noctis growled, and his hand tightened on Cinis'. "I won't feel better until I dig up the man who did this, kill him again, and put him back in the ground."

Gladio scoffed. "Trust me, you don't want that. Let him stay dead." He then eyed Prompto. "How about you, kid?"

Prompto made a sad noise. "I'm fine. Dunno why you're even asking me, when..." His gaze slid to Cinis, heartbroken and sorrowful, obviously aching for the man he cared about. Gladio felt sick, wishing he could have killed the man who did this himself, because _Six_ , at least he could have done something.

"Alright. Eat. Make him eat." He looked Cinis in the face. "I'm not throwing out any more food, okay? You have to try to eat."

To Gladio's surprise, that garnered a reaction: Cinis nudged the bowl back towards him. "My chest feels too heavy," he rasped, like every word was scraped across sandpaper before it reached his tongue. "Please eat, so that it doesn't go to waste."

Gladio scowled. His first words after the attack, and he chose to play martyr. "Try," he growled back, pushing the bowl onto Cinis' lap. Then, he turned to Noctis. "I'll see if I can get to a Lucian outpost or forward a team to resupply while we wait for the main army to meet with us. I'm leaving Ulric in charge while you're recuperating-"

"I'm still in charge here." Noctis raised his hackles. "And we're moving forward once everyone is on their feet again. I already spoke to Ulric. He said we have information about where Ravus Nox Fleuret is, and we need to move on it before Ravus does."

Gladio inhaled sharply, the force of his anger driving him to his feet. "You want to keep going?!"

"We're _this_ close to Ravus, to Luna.” Noctis’ voice strained with despair. “I'll go alone if I have to, but-"

"I'll go with you," Cinis interrupted. All three of the others stilled to look at him in shock, horror, and rage, and Cinis turned his remaining eye to each of them. "I will serve Prince Noctis to the death."

"You already gave enough of your life!" Gladio had to resist the urge to throttle the man.

"What else have I to live for? Any destiny, any dreams I had, I gave them up long ago." Cinis bit his lip next to the wedge left by the knife. "If I die in service, I die for something."

"Isn't there anything else you want to live for?!" Gladio could see Prompto wilting, but Cinis shook his head.

"I will keep going until I cannot. If I cannot continue, then I will stand down, but that day will not come until I can no longer stand."

"Can you? Can you actually stand?" Gladio challenged, and Cinis' pupil dilated to a pinprick. He shrugged Prompto and Noctis off of him and forced himself to rise, legs shaking but upright. Gladio groaned to himself, grimacing as Cinis forced strength he clearly still lacked. "That's not standing. That's 'vertical.'"

"I beg to differ." Cinis balled his fists. "I will continue with you all as far as I can. It's imperative we capture Ravus Nox Fleuret and save Milady Oracle."

Gladio hissed, then whipped around on Noctis. "You gonna say something, _Highness?!"_

Noctis hung his head, unable to make himself look at Cinis.

Prompto bit back a whimper, then whispered, "It's… it should be his decision." He stood beside Cinis. "I'll respect whatever he wants."

Gladio growled his frustration, then turned on his heel. "Whatever it is you're doing, I won't stand by it. Nobody here is in any shape to do anything." 

"Lord Amicitia-"

Gladio spun around to see Cinis still standing, shaking, and rage rushed up through every facsimile of calm he could summon: "What, am I not good enough for you to use my name anymore?!" He stormed towards Cinis and pushed his shoulders, toppling him into Prompto and Noctis. Noctis caught him and whipped his face up towards Gladio, mouth and face wrought into a snarl, and Prompto cried out, looking and sounding like a kicked puppy. It wasn't until Cinis curled into himself that the weight of Gladio's actions made impact, and he could hear his own father scolding him: 

Good job, Amicitia. Assaulting a brutalized, traumatized, untrained volunteer because he almost died instead of you. 

"Just stay down. We're not going anywhere." He turned from them, shame soaking through him like the snow seeping into his worn-out boots.

He heard Noctis swear and storm off, and heard Prompto turn to Cinis to comfort him:

"It's okay, Cin. He doesn't hate you. He doesn't hate us. I w-won't let anything else happen to you!"

Cinis' response was toneless. "I'm alright, Highness."

Gladio didn't believe him, but he was also completely out of resources to do anything about it. He had no men, he hadn't saved enough breakfast for himself, he had no plan, and he was fresh out of willpower. 

The war was not over, but Gladio knew the cold, hard truth: this company would march no further. 

* * *

Cinis - Ignis - Cinis - _whoever he was now -_ still _burned_. Under the bandages and scars, the numbed mask he wore before the men he admired most, he knew his own internal flame was banked, blazing at his walls and tight control in bursts and flares. He might have been beaten, but he had decided he wasn't done. 

He'd sworn to himself he'd serve his princes to the death - Noctis aloud, Prompto in his heart. It no longer mattered which name was on his gravestone. He'd heard Prompto ask the Chancellor about him and knew that both princes sought him, likely to execute him a traitor and king-killer, or to use him in the negotiations. He deserved no less. 

However, it was not what he wanted. Not yet at least. He would face whatever was left when fate, destiny, and dreams alike had failed him. He was alive, for the moment, and whatever he had left to burn in him, he would burn down to the wick. 

Prompto and Noctis were both still too weak from sickness to travel, so whatever decision was to be made about their next move would not and could not be made until Noctis, at the very least, was well enough to walk on his own two feet. (Ignis would carry Prompto over the ocean and back if he wished it, but Noctis was too headstrong for that.) Ignis was weak, but only because he was still recovering from blood loss, still walked with pain in his breast, his hands, his face, still aching from wounds that Noctis had tried to heal with every ounce of magic his weakened body could summon. Noctis had strained his own limits in hopes that he could stand and walk again. Thus, he could walk. He could move. 

He waited until Prompto and Noctis were asleep after a meager dinner. Gladiolus hadn’t been seen in the camp since the morning, and Ignis had heard one of the Glaives tell Noctis that Gladiolus was going to one of the outposts set up by the king’s sentries to get supplies and update them on Noctis’ status, on foot and alone. He wouldn’t be back until long after the sun sank under the horizon. Nobody else would pay him mind. He had gained enough of their trust to betray it, and he had weighed the situation, turning it over and over in his mind like a worry stone, before deciding that if the cost of the Lucians' trust was his life, but if such trust could be used to barter for something more valuable, he would make that trade.

"Glaive Ulric?" Ignis spotted the man easily, a tall Galahdian man with braids behind his ears and sharp, perceptive eyes. He faced Ignis at the sound of his name, and promptly furrowed his brow.

"Reliquus? You're up?" He smiled, brilliant even in the dim light, but patronizing. "You sound awful, you should still be resting."

Ignis frowned, but realized he was still hoarse. His own screams reverberated in his ears, and he forcibly shook away the memory as Ulric stood.

"Still, I'm glad to see you on your feet. You had us all worried."

"I'm well enough for this much, thank you." Ignis stopped before him and gave a quick salute. "His Highness - rather, Prince Noctis asked me to gather a report of today's camp observations. Any signs of Imperial sentries or search parties?" 

"Nope. Thank the Six." Nyx snorted. "All quiet, all day. Let's just hope King Regis' path is clear. Our wayward prince has been marching for months; he could use a reliever."

"So he could." Ignis paused, doubting himself and turning the situation over in his head one last time. Then, he commited: "Prince Noctis also asked me to have you repeat the information you had on Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret."

"Yeah?" Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Poor kid, that fever still has him, huh?"

"It's dismal. He's as hot as an overbaked potato." Ignis managed a lamenting sigh around the lies still sticking in his teeth. "I only hope there is no permanent damage to him in the wake of his illness."

"Yeah, kid's been through enough." Nyx shook his head. "Right, go ahead and write this down in case he asks again: one of the Imperial officers was heard telling the General of the fortress that Ravus Nox Fleuret was refusing to send aid. He said Fleuret was at a post about three miles north of here, at an outpost at the foot of Shiva's corpse." Nyx's eyes glinted. "I told him, give the order and I'll march there myself."

"But His Highness is unfit to give orders, leaving such things to fall to Lord Amicitia, and Lord Amicitia doesn't wish to risk any more casualties." Ignis sighed. "I'm certain the two of them can and will argue about it when Lord Amicitia returns."

"You know they will." Nyx grinned. "Got the message?"

"Consider the message received. You have my thanks, Glaive Ulric." Ignis bowed at the waist, then turned in the general direction of Noctis' tent. 

He bypassed the tent for the edge of camp, and waited on a ridge north of the tents. He waited, and he watched, hoping his princes would sleep restfully even without his vigil.

He watched the last of the sun die on the horizon and watched the night come, watched the land go dark, and watched the moon rise.

Then, the constellations, brilliant this far from civilization. Once, Ignis' uncle had pointed out the stars that aligned to form Ramuh, Leviathan, Titan, all of the Six and Eos and Etro, players on the celestial stage against the curtain of night. Ignis only watched for the cardinal stars. Eos' brow pointed north by northeast when Leviathan's tail was visible, as the hemisphere tilted with the seasons. Instead, he spotted Titan's hand. Eos was due north. So, too, was Ignis' fate, and with no word or signal to the rest of the company, Ignis began to walk towards Shiva's corpse alone. 

The snow was still, the wind gusting gently and whispering in Ignis' ears. He was finding his hearing more keen now that he was half-blind, and he could swear he heard voices carried in the night, whispering his name. He couldn't tell if he was being beckoned forth or called back, but when he turned back, there were no torches of men sent to follow him, and as the lights of the Lucian camp vanished under the horizon, the lights of the Niflheim outpost became visible. They felt distant as Ignis walked towards them, yellow and white on the glimmering ice fields. He almost didn't feel the cold pulling at his new scars, or the heaviness still lingering in his lungs. 

Ignis pulled the hood of his borrowed cloak over his hair and walked on, head held high. Ignis persisted.

The outpost was a hovel, a squat stone structure, hardly equipped for a siege. It may have once been a temple to worship the goddess in her seat. Now, the great statue in Shiva's image lay in rubble around what remained of the building, destroyed by the Niflheim Empire decades ago, symbolic of their intentions. No Gods, only the Empire and its everlasting light.

Ignis had been half blinded by that light. He thought he would prefer the darkness.

There was a lone guard at the outpost's door. One flick of the wrist sent a dagger spiraling through the air. It struck true and pinned the guard to the wall by his shoulder. Ignis followed its trajectory as the guard wailed and moaned, and he extended a hand to call the blade back as he neared the gate, unceremoniously ripping it back out of him. Ignis shot him a forbidding look as he came close.

"You could try to stop me, or you could staunch the bleeding. Choose wisely." Ignis wiped the guard's blood off the blade on his cloak, and the guard let out a whimper and held his hands up. "A wise choice." 

The outpost was sparsely staffed, Ignis could tell from the faint noise he could hear in the building. Ravus was likely on his last few soldiers after months on the run. Ignis listened carefully for footsteps as he crept into the stone foyer, and to his surprise, he saw Ravus there, on his knees in the nave. 

"Gentiana?" Ravus lifted his head and looked to his left. Ignis saw his eyes tilt over his shoulder, and bolted forward, readying his daggers again. He stopped short, his dagger against Ravus' neck.

"Surrender and I'll spare you." 

Ravus' hand went to his sword. Ignis waited for him to draw. Then, Ravus asked, "Lucis?"

"Yes." Ignis stilled his hand, as Ravus studied him, eyes narrow and too sharp.

"Will you grant my sister safe passage to Insomnia?"

"I will deliver her to Crown Prince Noctis personally." The words came almost unbidden, and when they were out, Ignis held his breath. Ravus studied him a second longer, too long. Ignis nearly moved, but Ravus lifted one arm.

"I surrender." He stood, turning, and Ignis realized his other arm was gone, the sleeve of his jacket limp against his side. He unfastened the sword from his belt and dropped it at Ignis' feet. Ignis took up the sword by the scabbard.

"Your cooperation is appreciated. Number your men. Take me to the Lady Oracle."

"Two men, one of whom I imagine you have dispatched. My sister is this way." He motioned to one of the cloister hallways.

Ignis kept Ravus at the end of his knife as he led Ignis down a hallway. Ravus no longer looked at him, but Ignis didn’t dare tear his eyes away as he stopped outside a door, in front of another guard, a too-young man in frayed Imperial uniform. The young soldier quickly saluted, then noticed Ignis and went for his sword.

Ravus stayed him. “It’s over.” He spoke with deadly finality. “You may take your leave, take what provisions you can find, and go home, wherever your home may be. Surrender if you must.” He shook his head. “The war must end. I am no longer in a position where I can fight it.” 

The soldier looked frantically between Ravus and Ignis before turning and bolting. Ravus knocked on the door, and there was no noise. He knocked again, and the door opened.

"The hour is late," Gentiana said, lidded eyes impassive as she stared through Ravus. "What is…" She trailed off as her gaze landed on Ignis. Ravus' mouth tightened.

"Lunafreya's wish has been granted. Lucis has arrived. We are leaving immediately."

"Apologies," Ignis added, "for my tardiness. I beg only your understanding that I had no choice but to move by night."

Gentiana said nothing, but bowed her head. "We'll ready ourselves immediately."

Ignis waited with bated breath as he and Ravus waited outside the door. Ravus seemed to notice, and quietly scoffed. "Typical. Another Lucian who kisses the feet of the Oracle but has no regard for Lunafreya."

"I would wait until morning, but I had my concerns that you would flee and spirit away with her. If Lu- Lady Lunafreya requires assistance, I shall provide it. His Highness would expect no less of me."

Ravus turned towards him again, frowning. Ignis tensed.

"You…" Ravus furrowed his brow. "You're familiar."

"I am nobody, Lord Fleuret." Ignis wished he could bite his own tongue off. 

Then, the door swung open, and Ignis felt lightheaded. Lady Lunafreya, in a simple gown and a woolen cloak, emerged, with Gentiana at her heels. Lady Lunafreya stepped past her brother and curtsied to Ignis. "I am grateful you have come, sir."

Ignis bowed, and his head suddenly was too heavy on his shoulders, his heart too heavy to beat. His voice wobbled briefly as he composed himself: "His Highness sends regards, Milady." He inhaled as he straightened his back. "Where are your dogs?"

"You know of Umbra and Pryna?"

Ignis realized he had erred, but Lunafreya extended a hand as if to touch him. "Then how fare the princes?"

A small mercy that she attributed his error to other knowledge. "Recovering. They would have come themselves, but both fell ill."

Lunafreya stood with her shoulders back, tension in her spine. "I see. Please worry not for Umbra and Pryna. They are more clever than most. Please take me to dear Noctis and Prompto." With that, she marched past Ravus. Ignis stood in awe of her, until Gentiana touched his arm.

"You bear a heavy burden." She took the sword from his hand. "Someone should have alleviated you of such weight long ago."

Ignis bit back a sardonic agreement, but nodded. "My thanks." Then, he faced Ravus. "Must I keep you at knifepoint?"

"I will come quietly." Ravus didn't move when Ignis finally lowered his hand and dismissed the knife from his grip. 

It almost seemed anticlimactic. However, Ignis knew that turning Ravus over to Noctis would not be the end. 

Ignis stood at the head of the party, leading south. His steps lagged with exhaustion, his remaining vision was blurred. He meant to stand alone, but soon enough, long before they cleared the shadow of Shiva, Lunafreya had caught up and walked at his side.

"Why did Lucis send only one man, and an injured man, at that?"

"I have no answer for you, Milady, only that I was not sent. I came of my own accord." The admission knocked the wind from him, and he had to force himself to inhale, not to stumble. He had to persist, if only for a little longer. "I could not risk Ravus taking you again, not when we knew you were so close." He dispensed of the illusion, loathe to lie to one more person he loved this dearly: "I deliberately disobeyed my superiors. I expect no less than the penalty for traitors and insubordinates upon my return. I bid you not watch, Milady."

Lunafreya inhaled, trembling. "Lucis is not so cruel. Would not saving my life be enough to give you reprieve?"

"I have never asked for reprieve, Milady." Ignis shook his head. "To tell the truth, I have merely waited for the day a son of Tenebrae proved no more than an inconvenience, a nuisance. I have done what I can for the love of the prince, however, and I pray that it is enough. That it will give him happiness."

Lunafreya's brow knit, and she moved to stand in front of him, halting his in place. "Sir, are you...?"

There was a distant barking, and Ignis looked past Lunafreya, south, to see the shadow of two dogs running across the frozen plain. The sun touched the horizon as Ignis saw what was past them: a small party of Glaives, a man on chocobo-back, and then, the entirety of the Lucian army. Ignis went weak at the knees as the first rays of dawn crossed them, and he finally collapsed. Lunafreya went down after him as her dogs circled at her feet, but Ignis cringed as he heard the approaching army's advance, the beat of boots on the snow, and fate encroaching. Ravus' shadow lay heavy on his back, and Gentiana knelt at his side, whispering, "Your dedication outshines your rank, and we are not the only ones who see it. Hold your head high and look." 

Ignis lifted his eyes when he heard shouting, and saw two on foot running ahead of the army, with a third a step behind them. He shivered, humiliated that they would reach him first, they would be the first to shame him, but he laid himself down, neck exposed, waiting for his head to be severed. 

Dawn's dim light illuminated the Lucian army's approach, and Ignis waited to die.

He did not.

Instead, he heard them calling for him, "Cinis! Cinis!" Then, hands were on him, lifting him up, and Prompto was there, holding him with tears in his big blue eyes.

"Cin, why? You're still hurt!"

"You idiot," Noctis was growling where he stood behind Prompto, face and voice twisted and fraught with emotion. "Why didn't you take me? I would have helped! I wouldn't have just _slept_ uselessly while you were off… doing my job…" He choked on the emotion, until Gladiolus pulled him back so he could get in his face. 

"You ever pull a stunt like this again and I don't know what I'll do to you!" He looked just as upset as the others, anger and worry plain on his face. Ignis choked on the implications.

"Do you mean you don't intend to kill me now? After everything I've-" His lament was cut off by a tight embrace, and Prompto's chin digging into his shoulder.

"Who said we'd hurt you? We'd never hurt you! Even if Noct and Gladio said to-"

"Hey!" Noctis protested.

"I'd never," Gladiolus snarled. 

"I wouldn't let them," Prompto whispered, and squeezed. "You're my friend. You're more valuable to us than anything." He pulled Cinis back against him in a hug. Somewhere above them, Lunafreya laughed softly, devoid of mockery.

"He was frightened. Imagine that, you were frightened of this. Whoever told you these men would do you harm?"

Ignis bit back his reply, because the answer to that question was standing not two yards away scowling at the display with his remaining arm across his chest. However, the rest of the Lucian army was approaching now, led by a trotting black chocobo. Ignis saw the bird stop, and a man in black regalia descended. He limped on one leg, and walked heavily, but he approached Ravus with a fond yet sad expression.

"King Ravus."

Ravus jerked with surprise. "How dare-"

King Regis, wizened and weary from decades of conflict, shook his head. "Tenebrae is free, and needs a King. I wish to deliver your country back into your hands, Ravus. I come not as a conqueror, but a liberator.” Ravus’ mouth worked, his expression tight, but Regis bowed. “You came as a prisoner, did you not? Walk with me as a friend. You and the Oracle will be welcome guests as we rebuild that which Gralea stole."

"And what is to be done for Gralea?" Ravus sneered. "Niflheim's so-called heir is a rebel and a puppet of Lucis."

King Regis graciously ignored Ravus' tone. "I have not had the pleasure of speaking with the young man directly."

Ignis noticed Regis glancing towards them, where Prompto was still hugging onto him with no regard for Ravus' insults.

"However, we have been in contact with the people of Gralea and outlying regions. They have showed interest in forming a Republic rather than reinstating the monarchy or indeed, an Empire. Lucis intends to help rebuild, but we have no desire to rule the world." Regis bowed. "Lucis is at your service. My son and I have searched this continent for you. May we discuss terms?"

Ravus glared at Regis a moment longer, then glanced to Lunafreya. "Lunafreya's safety trumps any of my concerns. At least until home becomes a safe place, we will return with you to Insomnia." 

"Wait." Noctis clapped a hand on Prompto's shoulder and murmured, "Now's your chance. Ask him."

Prompto made a strained noise. "But…" He turned and hugged Cinis again. "I'm right here, okay? I'll be right back." He stood and approached Ravus. "High Commander Fleuret?"

Ravus turned, scowling, as Prompto stood before him, stoic and stalwart. "Is there something you want of me, boy?"

"Prompto's fine." Prompto was uncharacteristically cool, gazing flatly at Ravus. "On the night of the ball, you left Zegnautus Keep pursued by a man in a mask of Shiva. He gave me his name as Ignis." Prompto swallowed hard, and took the glove from inside his jacket. "This was his. He has the other one. He's a friend."

Ignis' heart lurched into his throat, as Prompto, quivering, held the glove out to show Ravus. Lunafreya gasped, and Gentiana took her hand and whispered something into her ear, but Prompto took no notice. 

"Please tell me you remember something. I didn't know him long but he was a good friend. I need to know where he is."

Ravus' mouth worked as anger and guilt warred in his eyes. Finally, he hung his head. "Ignis…"

"I beg your pardon," Regis interrupted, "but do you mean Ignis Scientia? Would that be Ventus Scientia's nephew, by any chance?"

Ravus struggled with himself a moment longer, then sighed with disgust. "I did what I could. I took the boy into my home when his family was killed-"

"He was deliberately cruel to him," Lunafreya whispered. 

"It was _expected_ of me! He was the child of the Empire's enemy." Ravus crossed his arms and took a few steps aside, unable to look at any of them. "I had presumed that a thrall of mine would be considered enemy to Lucis as well." He glanced to Luna, as Ignis heard her sniffle above him. "Ignis…"

"It pains me to say, but he took his own life." Lunafreya gathered herself, strode towards Prompto and took his hand. "He left a farewell and…"

"No!" Prompto shook his head and jerked his hand back from her. "No, please, tell me it's not true! He was a friend! He was, he was a good person, he trusted me, he helped me! I never got to thank him!" He shivered, and the pain in Prompto's voice and face struck at something in Ignis' core. Prompto was wringing the glove in his hand, and Ignis felt compelled to reach into his front pocket to find its mate. 

All this time, they'd sought him because they wanted to thank him. Prompto had wanted to see him again. 

"Prompto?" Ignis gripped the glove in his hand and Prompto looked to him, quaking in place. "Perhaps it's cold comfort, but… I have…" He forced himself to stand, even as Gladiolus warned him, and he held the glove out. Prompto gasped, and Ignis carefully pulled his hood off.

"I believe when we met, I told you I didn't know a man named Ignis. I-" Ignis held his breath when he realized all eyes were on him, but he shut his eye and confessed, "I was a man named Ignis. I pretended my demise for the benefit of High Commander Fleuret so I could join the Lucians unnoticed."

Lunafreya clapped her hands over her mouth in disbelief that was slowly becoming joy, and Ravus grimaced and looked away.

Ignis' hand trembled as Prompto, and everyone else, stared at him. "My apologies for deceiving you. I didn't know my standing and… I had thought, if I was unwelcome at your side as I was, I would become someone you would accept." 

Prompto took a step towards him. Then another, then he was bounding towards him. Ignis braced himself, but instead of throwing his arms around him again, he took his face in his hands and pulled him down to him, the leather of his glove against his cheek. Ignis let Prompto's gaze rove his face, then whispered, "It's been you the whole time?"

"Yes, and it's been an honor to be at your side, no matter what name you call me."

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49280020401/in/dateposted-public/)

Ignis didn't have a chance to breathe before Prompto embraced him and kissed him on the mouth, and he helplessly fell into it. When Prompto broke away, it was just to hold Ignis closer. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again! You're just gonna have to stay close to me so I can keep you out of trouble!"

Ignis chuckled wearily. "I suppose that is your right, your Highness."

"No, no, no, we went over this weeks ago! I'm Prompto to you!" He looked up into his face, impassioned and imploring. "Can I call you Ignis now?"

"If you wish."

"Will you stay with me?" Prompto took both of his hands but only squeezed the uninjured one. Ignis noticed, and smiled wearily. 

"If that's what you like."

"I want to know what you like!" Prompto beamed. "I want to know everything about you! What will make you happy? I can take you back to Insomnia with me, or we can go to Tenebrae, or we could go start a chocobo ranch, anything you like! You saved me." He rubbed his forehead on Ignis' shoulder. "I'm sure I wouldn't have made it through that first night without you, and I've kept myself walking this whole time promising myself I'd find you, while you were right behind me this whole time taking care of me. Please tell me what you want. I'll make your dreams come true!"

Ignis nearly answered, until King Regis, who had been in deep conversation with Ravus, broke away and staggered towards him. "Are you Ignis Scientia? Truly?"

Ignis turned towards him and nodded. 

"Dear boy." Regis' eyes were haunted as he looked into Ignis' face, scars and all. "I wept when I learned of your family's fate. Ventus was as a brother to me, it was cruel for Gralea to take them all. I'm so glad you survived." He gripped Ignis' shoulder. "Did your uncle tell you of your family's tradition?" 

"He did, your Majesty."

"Then you knew you were meant to come to Lucian court."

"Yes, your Majesty." 

Regis' expression was wrought and unreadable, but he turned and motioned to Noctis. "Noct, do you remember? More than ten years ago, I told you about the young man in line to join your council from Tenebrae."

Noctis' eyes widened in recognition. "That's why I knew his name." He tottered a step towards Ignis. "Did you know? The entire time?"

"I came to you of my own accord High- _Noct._ " Ignis winced at the hurt in Noctis' face, as Prompto wrapped himself tighter around Ignis. "I met you as a young man come to liberate my homeland. If you had not been entitled to my loyalty on your name alone, you earned it twice over that night, thrice when you came to seek the Oracle two days later."

To Ignis' surprise, Noctis extended a hand. Ignis took it, and Noctis clasped both hands around it.

"You've more than earned your place, too," Noctis declared. "You've been amazing. There's nobody I want at my side more than you. But…" Noctis trailed off as his gaze turned to Prompto. Prompto chuckled.

"Guess I'm staying in Insomnia."

"It seems we have an agreement." Regis turned towards Insomnia and his general. "Lord Amicitia, we part ways here. Continue to liberate Niflheim, we'll bring light back to these lands yet. I believe I must return to tending the light in our own lands."

With that, Ignis was swept up to his feet, walking tall with his arms on Noctis and Prompto's shoulders, with Gladiolus at his back and Lunafreya promising to try to heal his eye, and finally, finally, he could let himself rest. He gave in to his weariness and let himself be carried towards his happy ending.

* * *

Dawn was bright and warm in the Citadel's higher floors in the spring, made tolerable by a little bit of Blizzard magic. Ignis still woke before the dawn, tumbled in light cotton sheets and tangled in comfortable linen pants, and made to crawl from comfort. Before he could, however, a hand chased him and grabbed him by the wrist.

"Don't go," Prompto whispered. His eyes were wide in the dark where he was wrapped up in the blankets. "Just a little longer. You work so hard."

"This behavior is unbecoming of a Prince and Ambassador, Highness." Ignis smiled wryly and gingerly detached himself from Prompto, who moaned a little both at the denial and the title. Prompto's days were spent as a figurehead in meetings with officials from the New Gralean Republic, a voice of the people with memories from the hellish workhouse that still seemed fresh when Prompto spoke of them and insight to the greed of the elites. He was a little spoiled now, but Ignis thought he'd lived in deprivation quite long enough.

Prompto felt the same about Ignis. "You can sleep in. Just one day?"

"I want to make you breakfast, my darling." That got Prompto to relent with a sigh.

"You always know the magic words."

King Regis had a whole kitchen staff constantly busy feeding the Royal family (chiefly Regis, and sometimes Noctis) and all their many guests, the council, assorted dignitaries and international representatives, but they all smiled when Ignis entered and made a space for him. He didn't have to cook for Prompto and Noctis and the others, but it was a point of pride for him to do so. It was his decision to rise early to make pain perdu scented with orange zest and served with wild strawberries Lunafreya had picked in the gardens with Gladiolus’ younger sister. He could be assured his friends received the finest, and the envy from head chef Coctura was a huge ego stroke.

"Lord Scientia, you spoil those boys," she laughed as he put cloches over seven plates and loaded them onto a cart, then halted him. "I'll send a porter with the cart, sir, just leave me that recipe!"

Ignis returned to Prince Noctis’ wing of the Citadel, only to find Prompto, Noctis, and Lunafreya poring over the morning broadsheets, reading the news articles as Gladiolus completed the crossword puzzle. Both princes looked up, Noctis curious and Prompto lighting up with a mischievous grin as soon as he laid eyes on Ignis. "Morning, Iggy!"

"Good morning, darling." Ignis greeted him with a chaste kiss to the forehead, then sat beside Noctis. "Noctis, good morning."

"So it is." He smiled wryly. "I'm guessing Prompto's already reminded you that you don't have to cook."

Gladiolus snorted from behind his section of the paper. "You keep reminding him, one of these days he might actually stop, and won't you be crying then."

Ignis laughed broadly, until there was a knock at the door. Gladiolus shot Ignis a forbidding look (saying without words, “you just got back, don’t you dare trouble yourself”) and answered, letting the Amicitia family's retainer-in-training in with the cart. "Morning, Talcott. You eaten yet?"

"Nope!" Talcott was a cheerful sort of boy, given a few simple tasks a day to assist his grandfather, the Amicitia family retainer. Ignis would have objected to forcing a boy his age to work, except it was only one or two simple tasks a day, he was still in school, and Ignis also knew this part of the routine. "Miss Coctura said Mr. Scientia made a plate for me if I come eat with you all!"

"It's Ignis, please," Ignis said, and Talcott looked right at him and flinched. Ignis couldn't be upset. Even months later, even with daily healing from Lunafreya, his scars were still gruesome reminders of his trauma. However, he was able to open his left eye now, though it was still sensitive to light. None of his friends complained about his looks - Prompto even called him “handsome” whenever he had an excuse to say it - but Talcott couldn't seem to bear the sight of him. Gladiolus patted the boy's back. 

"Be nice, okay?"

"S-sorry." Talcott grinned. "Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Ignis." Then he joined all the others and Gladiolus went to fetch Iris as Ignis passed around plates to smiles and gratitude and a kiss on the hand from Prompto. 

Ignis ate breakfast with his friends, his new family.

He had duties, reports to read all morning for both princes, but he had his own desk and a comfortable chair in Noctis' library, and Lunafreya would pull up an armchair beside his and sit with him and discuss the reports as she fed him healing energy through a gentle handhold. Ignis had learned that she'd first met Noctis when he'd been traveling to Accordo with King Regis when their caravan was attacked near enemy territory, and Noctis had been grievously injured such that only Lunafreya and her mother had been able to save his life and keep him whole. Now, she was happy to serve as a friend and confidant to two wayward princes, and to personally aid Ignis' recovery.

"I can feel you overdoing it," he whispered at a lull in their conversation, winking at her with his good eye. "Luna, you know I'll be content if this is all the progress I ever make. I'm perfectly functional."

"As ever you have been," Lunafreya agreed readily, but released his hand nonetheless. "But you deserve better, dear Ignis, so much more." 

"You'll be a good queen someday." Ignis couldn't suppress a soft chuckle as he picked up the next report. "A heart full of love for all of your people."

With the war coming to a close, the possibility of a union between Lucis and Tenebrae sealed with a marriage between Noctis and Lunafreya seemed inevitable. Ravus had returned to Tenebrae to begin rebuilding, entrusting her to Regis' protection. While Ravus still held no love for Noctis, Lunafreya did, and she loved everyone else as well. Ignis was sure she'd never been this joyful and bubbly in Tenebrae, so it delighted him to see her lit up every hour: ever glad of her company, ever content with her new friends. She, reflexively, was happy to see him at peace.

"As full as yours." She rose and kissed the scar over his eyebrow. "Go, I'm sure one of those boys are looking for you."

Noctis didn't like depending on Ignis, not after this had manifested as Ignis nearly giving up his own life to protect Noctis', but Ignis had memorized exactly how his raiment was meant to be arranged so he could attend meetings at his best and Noctis always swapped at least a few of his medals from his feats on the battlefield. Ignis would brief Noctis on the reports Noctis hadn't had a chance to review as he helped dress him. Noctis marveled at Ignis' sharp mind as he rattled off the current round of trade negotiation terms and pinned his cape just-so, grateful as he always was.

"You're the best, thank you. Don't know where I'd be without you, Ignis, except maybe in a cold grave at Zegnautus Keep or somewhere near Ghorovas." 

"Let's bear in mind that, as I was there, such a thing was never a possibility." Ignis suppressed a shiver at the very notion. 

Prompto, too, had meetings, and Ignis always set aside an hour to talk him through everything he needed to know and help tutor him in reading and writing more proficiently. While Prompto dressed simpler than Noctis' raiment, Ignis still straightened his tie and vest for him before escorting him to his next meeting.

"I'll be attending this one with you on Noctis' behalf," Ignis informed him at the door as he ensured he was properly appointed and smoothed his hair into place, then combed it back. "We'll be meeting with Biggs Callux and Wedge Kincaid, two representatives of the recently elected Lady Highwind, who will be coming for a diplomatic visit next week. My understanding is that Lady Highwind is the daughter of a former Niflheim count who was sent to the work camp when she refused an arranged marriage, and now fights most viciously for the proletariats of Gralea."

"I love her already!" Prompto beamed, and Ignis chuckled and readjusted his cravat.

"Based on the tone of her communications with King Regis, she'll be difficult to love in person." Ignis smiled wryly. "She insists she's determined to make friends and allies of Lucis, despite clearly harboring some resentment towards the nobility. However, she’s made some rather outrageous demands, likely as a means of testing our mettle.” Ignis tapped his nose. “ _However_ , you’ll find I’ve studied. I know just how much space we have to offer, from every empty room to every table and chair, and how many empty stalls we have in the chocobo stable. I also have a good idea of just how much they need and intend to offer them little more.” 

“Ooh, they’re getting the hardline from you!” Prompto laughed as Ignis led him to the door, then hooked his arm in his. “Whatever you say, I’m on your side. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Appreciated, my love.” Ignis laced his fingers with Prompto’s, the leather of Ignis' gloves gliding against Prompto's hands, and the two walked arm-in-arm, hand-in-hand, to the meeting, and ever onwards. 

The gloves were a gift from Prompto, silvery-white Catoblepas hide tanned butter-smooth. Prompto never complained about Ignis' calluses or scars, but Ignis felt more himself when wearing the gloves. They were a constant reminder of Prompto's love and faith in him, of Prompto's hand forever holding his.

Ignis spent his days basking in the warmth of his prince’s affection and admiration. His evenings were spent in their love. When the night became cold, they’d stoke a fire in the den of the prince’s apartments, not too high but enough to keep them cozy. They’d drink hot milk tea or cocoa or, on a night when Ignis had too much work to do, coffee, and Ignis would read meeting notes from the day with Prompto cuddled on his arm, or play cribbage or board games with Prompto, Noctis, and Gladiolus. Ignis liked to put his feet up near the embers no matter what he was doing, almost defiant in his happiness.

The fire still lived in him, but he was doing something that sated his need to burn, and he could control it. He had found his way to the path he’d always sought for himself, and blazed his trails, leaving nothing but ashes of his obstacles. 

When he laid down to sleep at night, Prompto crawled into their warm bed next to him, and together, they dreamt of a future brighter than dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This is probably my favorite fic I've written. It was great to work with Scarlett for the art, and Callie is a great friend and wonderful editor. I've considered writing some follow-up at some point in the future, but I'll leave the future to the future. 
> 
> If you want to reach out, hit me up! You can find me in the Promnis Official Discord, on Tumblr as ezra-blue or on Twitter @ForgetTheLyrics. I appreciate every one of you.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the fic!! Thank you for reading!


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